


Big Love

by allthegalpals



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: F/F, Happy Ending, Slow Burn, They're both oblivious, bit of angst thrown in, it's very cute, kind of, they fall in love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2019-04-20
Packaged: 2019-07-15 02:33:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 41,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16053614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allthegalpals/pseuds/allthegalpals
Summary: Erin makes a supposedly temporary move up to the third floor with Patty to escape the dangers of Holtzmann's lab.Patty falls in love and (almost) doesn't notice.





	1. July

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6 chapters covering 6 months at the firehouse  
> see you at the end in 6 weeks time

** July **

 

“Holtzmann! Will you cut that out?!”

Patty rolls her eyes as Erin’s muffled yelling travels from the second floor, where they are, to the third floor, where she is.

It’s mid-afternoon on a warm day in July. There’ve been no busts all week, making the four of them restless, especially Holtzmann. The engineer typically shares the second floor with Erin, while Abby likes to switch between the ground floor and the third with Patty.

Patty’s on the third floor and that’s how it’s going to stay. She picked it for multiple reasons, most of them to do with her own personal safety. One, she’s not in direct contact with any of Holtzmann’s ‘babies’. Two, Holtzmann is less likely to ask her try out new gadgets if she’s out of sight – that responsibility falls to Erin. Three, she’s two floors away from Kevin and whatever he might be doing.

They’ve been in the firehouse for a few weeks, now. A few weeks since Patty ended a ghost apocalypse, made three new friends and started a career where she’s the only person in her field. That’s a lot to take in.

She supposed that the other woman had almost been waiting for it, expecting it to happen, whereas Patty had unintentionally thrust herself into something crazy. Out of her depth? She’s barely treading water. Things are moving incredibly fast. A meeting with the mayor here, an e-mail from high-ranking officials there, phones ringing everywhere. The third floor is a hide-away, a safe place to get away from the craziness.  

Abby, who seems a little more socially perceptive than Erin and Holtzmann, must have picked up on how she feels, because often she’ll pop up to Patty’s floor and ask how she’s getting on. Patty’s grateful for that, truly. Out of the three of them, she’s probably closest to Abby. She likes her can-do attitude and openness to others.

Holtzmann is slightly odd, _extremely_ flirtatious to the point where Patty’s not sure if she’s being serious and has no concept of personal space. The engineer has no qualms to throwing herself into Patty’s lap or falling asleep on her shoulder.

Erin is… reserved. Like she still doesn’t fully understand how they got to this point, which Patty relates to. She splits most of her time between Abby and Holtzmann. Patty doesn’t mind too much – Erin just got her best friend back, they have a lot of catching up to do. And Holtzmann is a fellow scientist, so they have something to talk about. Perhaps Erin’s just shy around new people.

It’s only been a few weeks, after all. Maybe in another three weeks Holtzmann will be Patty’s favourite.

“I said cut that out!”

Patty hears the distant spray of a fire extinguisher and shakes her head.

Maybe not.

“That’s it! That’s _it_!”

A chair scrapes on the floor below, like someone standing up.

“I’m sorry, Erin!” Holtzmann calls out. She doesn’t sound very sorry.

A brief period of silence, followed by quiet footsteps up to the third floor. Patty quickly looks back to her laptop, not wanting to appear as if she was eavesdropping.

Erin appears in her line of vision, hesitating in the doorway. She knocks on the door frame.

Patty looks up and focuses on Erin, whose shirt sleeve is burned and smoking at the cuff.

“Hey.”

“Hey. What happened?”

“Holtzmann asked me to help her with something, started messing around with her blowtorch _again_ and accidentally set me on fire,” Erin explains, still stood in the doorway.

Instead of unpacking that wealth of information, Patty asks, “Can I see?”

Erin walks over and stands awkwardly by Patty’s desk, holding out her singed sleeve. “Do you think she’s trying to kill me?”

Patty laughs as she inspects Erin’s clothing. “Baby, if Holtzmann wanted to kill any of us I’m sure she could’ve done it by now.”

“That’s not comforting.”

 “I think you’ll have to throw this one out,” Patty sighs, tracing the burn mark that goes all the way up to the elbow. “Damn, you'd think Holtzy wouldn't damage such a sacred gay item.”

Erin frowns. “What?”

“It’s like a thing all gay girls wear. The plaid shirts and stuff."

“I’m not gay.”

“Yeah, I know. Just a joke,” Patty says lightly.

Erin folds her arms… defensively?

“Abby says Holtz is just hyper-active because we’ve had a slow week, but it feels personal. Last week she set my desk on fire and set up an air horn that went off every time I opened the filing cabinet.”

Patty shrugs. “Maybe it is personal. Perhaps she wants your attention.” 

“Maybe,” Erin says, not appearing convinced. “I know she’s just winding me up, but I’d appreciate coming to work and _not_ being set on fire by my colleague.”

Patty laughs and gestures to their surroundings. “You’ll be safe up here. Want to hang around for a while? I could do with some company.”

She asks her to stay because she knows Erin would never ask, no matter how much she doesn’t want to go back to second floor. And she did get a little lonely up here, sometimes; peace and quiet is only comforting for a certain amount of time. Plus, if they spent more time together it might help break the ‘new friend’ feeling.

Erin hesitates. “Are you sure? I don’t want to interrupt your work. Isn’t that Abby’s desk anyway?” She points to rarely used wooden desk that Abby sometimes sat at on her trips up to see Patty.

“No, and where else are you gonna work? Back down there with Doctor Franken-Holtzy and the blowtorches from hell?” Erin smiles at that and Patty knows she’s broken through. “Didn’t think so. Go get your stuff and I’ll move this desk over.”

 

* * *

 

“You know you don’t have to bring me a hot drink every time you come up here, right? I appreciate it, but you don’t have to.”

“I know,” Erin says, but it sounds like she doesn’t.

It’s the fourth consecutive day of Erin making the trip up to the third floor and each time she’s brought up a coffee for herself and a tea for Patty. Patty’s no scientist, but she’s started to notice a pattern.

Ten minutes earlier, Erin had knocked again, holding out two mugs. Patty had just finished writing up her historical section of their report on their latest bust and welcomed the drink break.

Erin sits in the spare chair, pulled up close to Patty’s desk, sipping her drink.

“I don’t know how you drink that stuff,” Patty comments, glaring at Erin’s storm trooper mug.

Erin looked surprised. “Coffee?”

“Gives me migraines. I’ll have tea any day,” Patty says, pointing to her own floral mug. “That stuff should be banned.”

“It’s not _that_ bad.”

“Could you survive without it?”

Erin groans. “I would die.”

Patty holds her hands up.

"What are you working on?" Erin asks, pointing to the multiple documents open on her laptop. "It looks intense."

Patty clicks on the document, a side-project she’d been working on when they didn’t have reports to write up.

"I'm trying to make some kind of New York ghost proﬁle. Like getting all the information I can about major haunted sites, so we have a better idea of what to expect if we get called out there.

So here I’ve got the name of building, the address, what supposedly happened and when, how many people died, floorplans, emergency exits and the number of people currently living there and in the surrounding area. Then I’ve got people who recorded sightings; who, what, when and their contact details. Then references, of course.”

Erin stays silent, staring at computer screen, so Patty continues.

"I’m trying to get through one or two a week. Hopefully when I have a long list, we can cross reference different sites, check for patterns, predict where might ﬂare up next. Get evacuation plans ready if it’s a densely populated area. See which places are likely to have ghosts at different times of year."

Erin turns to make eye-contact, looking impressed. "Patty, this is... amazing. Like, wow."

Patty grins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! This must be taking you ages.”

“It is. Worth it, though. And thank you, for saying that,” Patty says, grateful for Erin’s appreciation. ~~~~

“This is so cool! We could get Holtz to design little remote sensors and place them at the ‘most haunted’ sites so we could get instant feedback if paranormal activity was recorded there.”

“Like they do with seismic waves?”

“Exactly! And I bet… I bet we could…” Erin trails off, grabbing a piece of paper and a pencil. “If we could write some kind of algorithm… we could integrate feedback from the remote sensors and information from your ghost profile to predict high risk sites.”

“Okay,” Patty says, following the sequence of boxes and arrows Erin’s drawing. “Two points: why don’t we just put sensors all over the city? And doesn’t that take Kevin out of the equation?”

“It’s highly impractical and expensive to build sensors that cover the entire city. We could prioritise the high-risk sites and densely populated areas, like Times Square, and put sensors there. Then we still need Kevin to take calls from unidentified sites, out of city locations and as a back-up in case any of the main site sensors fail or get damaged.”

“So, how does this,” Patty points to her work, “help?”

“If we can find a way to pull important information from your ghost profile, then if we get feedback from multiple sites we can prioritise where we go first.”

Patty nods. “Because a more densely populated area is a higher risk.”

“Exactly. And if there were, for example, many people who previously died at the site, we might expect more ghosts which could be more dangerous. If we can write an equation that takes stuff like that into account, we could have a constantly updating list. What do you think are the most important factors?”

“Me?” Patty asks, surprised. “Um… number of people who live in the area, probably a half-mile radius. Number of people who died in the event and the number of ghosts we might expect. When it happened – could be an anniversary coming up. Then the strength of paranormal activity that gets picked up on the sensor.”

“So, four key factors. If we can use them to calculate a ‘risk’ value, we can prioritise or closely monitor high risk sites. What do you think?”

“Sounds awesome!” Patty grins, excited by the potential of her work being useful. “I would never have thought of that.”

“I would never have thought of _this_.”

Patty shrugs. “Just a side-project.”

“I think it might become your main project,” Erin says, scribbling something else down. “Come on, lets go pitch it to Abby and see what she thinks.”

“Right now?”

“Sure! I think she’s gonna love it.”

 

* * *

 

 

“It’s really nice up here,” Erin comments from the desk adjacent to Patty’s.

They’re up on the third floor together, both working on the new project they’d pitched to Abby, Holtzmann and then the Mayor who’d agreed to fund their proposition once it had been fully planned and costed. Abby suggested it would likely take a few months for the new sensor system and watch list to be trialled and fully tested, which gave Patty a few months to research the major haunted sites in the city.

Erin’s been working up here with her on the project for the past two days. Patty likes having her here – it’s comforting to have someone up here with her for an extended period. From yesterday afternoon and this morning, she’s observed that Erin is a quiet worker and often won’t say anything for hours. Erin works in two notepads, one for writing and one with grids for maths. She occasionally uses her laptop, but not as much as Patty does.

It’s difficult not to get distracted and watch; Patty finds it fascinating and would love to know the thought process behind Erin’s working. A few hours ago, half-way through writing something down in her maths notepad, Erin stopped, stared at page for a few minutes, completely still, then completed the calculation.  

“I guess,” Patty says, looking around the room.

Books are piled up high at wall edges, green paint barely clinging to the wall, a large map of New York crumpled in the corner. It’s only redeeming feature is the standing lamp with a purple lightshade next to her desk that she’d brought in from home and the large amount of natural light from the windows. Other than that, it’s a bit of a dump.

“When I get the time, I’m gonna do up properly. It’s got potential.”

“What would you do?”

“Paint the walls – purple would be nice. Put up some new maps of the city. Bookcases and storage units. General office furniture. But it’s not all down to me, you guys work here too.”

“You work up here the most, so you should decide.”

“Maybe,” Patty shrugs. “Like I said, I just need to find the time.”

“Sounds like a two-person job,” Erin says, staring at her notepad.

“Is that an offer?”

“Yes. If… if you let me work up here, too. I mean, sometimes – not all the time, I don’t want you to feel like I’m invading your space.”

Patty frowns. “Erin, you don’t have to do something for me to get to work up here. That’s not how it is, okay? Anyone can work wherever they want.”

A well-timed crash from downstairs causes Erin to raise an eyebrow.

“Except Holtzy,” Patty laughs. “She’s not allowed within five feet of my desk after what she did to yours. But seriously, if you want to work up here, then do. If you want to help me decorate, which is a very kind offer, then do, but please don’t do it because you feel like you have to.”

“Okay,” Erin says simply in return. “And I will help you – with the painting and stuff. Let me know when you want to do it.”

“Sure thing, baby.”

Patty thinks she sees a hint of a blush on Erin’s cheeks, but then it’s gone. A trick of the light, perhaps.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Patty Tolan, you are under arrest for the brazen and frankly terrifying kidnapping of Dr Erin Gilbert from the second floor of this very building,” Holtzmann declares. She walks in swinging a pair of pink fluffy handcuffs in the air.

“Why do you have handcuffs?” Patty asks, going straight for the obvious.

“Because you’re under arrest for the kidnapping of the world’s – nay, the universe’s – greatest intellectual mind in particle physics. I need her immediately and you’ve stolen her away.”

“I’m right here,” Erin chimes in, with a small wave like Holtzmann can’t see her sitting at her desk. “What I think Patty meant was, why do you have those handcuffs in the first place?"

“Every naughty girl has a pair of handcuffs, Dr Gilbert,” Holtzmann says with salacious wink. Erin promptly chokes on a sip of coffee. “I’m sure you have a pair in your bedside drawer, unless you’re a _good_ girl, of course.”

“Oh my God,” Patty mutters, rolling her eyes as Erin flushes red.

Holtzmann grins wickedly, turning her attention back to Patty. “Kidnapping is a crime punishable by death, Miss Tolan. But this time I’ll let you off, so long as you return Dr Gilbert to her rightful place on the second floor,” she continues, clearly enjoying this roleplay far too much.

 _Ah_. Now Patty gets it. Holtzmann’s lonely on the second floor by herself. She wants someone to annoy.

Erin clears her throat, recovered from her coughing fit. “Have you considered the possibility that I wasn’t kidnapped and left of my own accord?”

Holtzmann frowns. “I’m not entirely sure what would motivate you to leave the second floor, Dr Gilbert. However, if that is the case I will allow you to stay situated here for the time being.”

“Thank you, Officer,” Erin replies.

“Of course,” Holtzmann nods sincerely and salutes, the sarcasm missing her. “But if I hear any more reports of kidnappings in the area…” she trails off and gives Patty a death stare, “I’ll be right back up to lay down the law.”

Patty raises her eyebrows in amusement. “I would love to see you try, baby.”

They stare each other out for a few more seconds before Erin interrupts them.

“What did you need me for, anyway?”

Holtzmann snaps her attention back to Erin, leaning on her desk. “I need you to go through some numbers for me. I’m trying to design some ghost handcuffs. Kinky stuff, huh?”

“I do not want to know where the inspiration for that came from,” Patty interjects in a stern tone.

“Are you _sure_?” Holtzmann asks, playful and coy. “I could give you a demonstration.”

“Holtz!” Erin interrupts again, clicking her fingers in front of her face. “Numbers?”

“Yes! Come, come,” she beckons Erin closer. “Won’t take long, you’ll be back up with Pattycakes before you know it.”

Patty’s not sure that will be the case, and she expects Erin will spend the rest of the day on the second floor again. Much to her surprise Erin returns just over an hour later, with a smile and trademark finger guns.

“Ghost handcuffs are a go,” she confirms, looking pleased with her contribution.

Patty rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Wonderful. Can’t wait till we get kitted out with those.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Do you do them yourself?” Erin asks, one Friday afternoon.

The four of them are sat at the table in the kitchen area, drinking smoothies they bought after their weekly meeting at the Mayor’s office. Holtzmann had, surprisingly, not broken anything this time, nor had Erin refused to keep their work secret and Abby hadn’t yelled about flying babies again, which Patty decided was a success.

“These?” Patty asks, holding up her hands to show her painted fingernails. “Yeah. Used to get it done at the salon but it’s cheaper if you do it yourself. Not as good, but hey, saves me twenty bucks.”

“They _are_ as good,” Erin says firmly.

She reaches across the table and takes Patty’s hand, studying her nails intently. Erin, Patty has observed over the past few weeks of working with her, likes to look at things and today is no exception. She studies each turquoise coloured nail with equal attention, then takes Patty’s other hand and repeats the process. Abby watches on with a curious expression.

“So pretty,” Erin comments quietly and let’s go of Patty’s hand.

“I should get my nails done,” Holtzmann says with grin. “Get those inch-long acrylics filed into points.”

Patty sighs. “ _Why_?”

“Why not? I’d be like Wolverine.”

“I’m not sure you’d get laid for a while, though,” Abby points out.

Holtzmann slurps her smoothie. “Worth it to be Wolverine.”

“Do you think you could do mine?” Erin asks, examining her own nails. “I would give you something for it.”

“Sure thing. You don’t need to give me anything.”

“Can you do mine, too?” Holtzmann begs with puppy-dog eyes. “I’ll braid your hair.”

“I can buy ice-cream!” Abby offers, excited. “Sleepover!”

 

 

That’s exactly how Patty gets roped into a Friday night sleepover at HQ with three other women over the age of thirty all wearing various nerdy pyjamas. Abby’s wearing UFO pyjamas, Holtzmann has X-Men and Erin has Star Wars, mini R2-D2s covering her cotton shorts. Patty almost feels underdressed in her matching pink t-shirt and shorts.

Holtzmann’s sat on the couch with Abby on the floor below her, braiding her hair after braiding her own into two plaits. Patty can’t believe how different Holtzmann looks with her hair like that. Erin is yet to have her hair braided and sits on the floor with Patty. Abby’s playing her 90’s music playlist and Holtzmann is pretending she knows the words.

“Which colour?” Patty asks, spreading out the various nail polishes she owns on the rug.

Erin hums and looks at each of them in turn, hand hovering over a few colours, before she finally taps the light pink colour. “This one.”

“A good choice,” Patty compliments. It’s one of her personal favourites.

“Thanks,” Erin smiles. She holds out her left hand, which Patty takes into her lap, spreading Erin’s fingers apart. Patty begins the task of painting one layer of pink on each nail. then waits for them to dry. Erin watches in silence, barely moving a muscle.

“You have nice hands,” Patty says as they wait for the second layer to dry.

Erin looks up. “What?”

“Your hands. They’re nice,” Patty repeats, unsure of how to rephrase. They _are_ nice; soft but strong, everything in proportion, fingers relatively long and thin. There’s a small bump on her right index finger that Patty assumes is from her writing position.  

“Oh. Thank you,” Erin says, staring at her own hands as if she’d never seen them before.

“Let’s see your hands, Er!” Holtzmann yells from the couch. Erin turns towards her and holds them out. Holtzmann takes one of her fingers and wiggles it. “Hmm. Such a shame you’re straight.”

Erin glares at Abby’s snickering and turns back to Patty, who quickly hides her smile. “They’re bullying me,” she whispers, mock-serious.

“Poor baby,” Patty sympathises, lightly cupping her cheek.

“Oh shush,” Abby says, half of her hair braided. “Holtz is just jealous because her fingers are short.”

Holtzmann’s mouth drops open “Hey! I’ve had _very_ positive reviews of my handiwork. Now _you’re_ bullying me!” She nudges Abby’s shoulder with her knee. “You can’t be mean to me, it’s my first sleepover.”

Patty frowns, applying a gloss layer to Erin’s nails. “You never had a sleepover before, Holtzy?”

“Nuh-uh. First time,” Holtzmann says and goes back to braiding Abby’s hair. Abby rubs her shin soothingly.

“Didn’t know you were a Star Wars fan,” Patty says after a few moments of silence, prodding Erin’s R2-D2 covered shoulder.

Abby gasps. “Oh my god! Erin is such a Star Wars nerd! She made me watch The Phantom Menace with her six times in theatres!”

“What’s wrong with that?” Erin demands, highly defensive.

“That we saw it six times? That the theatre staff knew us by name after the third viewing? That we were in our mid-twenties? That every time Anakin left his Mom to become a Jedi you burst into tears? Or maybe-”

“Okay, I get it!” Erin interrupts, cutting Abby off.

“We must have watched the original trilogy so many times. You had them all on VHS tapes, remember?”

“My most prized possessions. I still have them, actually.”

“Nerd!” Holtzmann pipes up.

“Thank you, Wolverine.”

“Remember Halloween ’87? I went as an alien and you went as a Jedi knight.”

Erin groans in embarrassment. “Those boys chased us away from Mrs Lloyd's house when we were out trick or treating.”

Abby laughs. “You tripped and cut your knee open on the pavement.”

“And broke my lightsabre,” Erin pouts.

“Nerd!” Holtzmann yells again.

“Nothing wrong with being a nerd, Er,” Patty reassures her. “I went as a Roman soldier for Halloween, once. Made a chest plate out of cardboard, sword out of cardboard, cape out of an old bed sheet and stuck a brush on top of my bike helmet. Won best costume for my school year. I was thirteen. We just finished learning about the Roman empire in History class.” ~~~~

“That’s so cute,” Erin says with a genuine smile.

“You know something? I bet we would have been friends in school.”

“Do you think?”

“Yeah! You’d be reading your ghost books, I’d be reading my history books. We would’ve hung out in the library at lunchtime, talking about things,” Patty describes, picturing it easily. “You’d lend me your Star Wars comics and I’d make you watch documentaries at my house. We would’ve had some fun.”

“I wish that had happened,” Erin says, wistfully. “I wish I’d met you sooner.”

 

 

“I can’t believe Abby made us use sleeping bags,” Patty grumbles as they lie in the living area of the ground floor.

“She wanted Holtz to have the authentic sleepover experience,” Erin replies, voice low.

“Don’t see why _we_ had to have it as well,” Patty whispers back and Erin grins. “They asleep yet?”

Erin turns on her side, sleeping bag rustling, to observe Abby and Holtzmann who are lying close together. “Looks like it. Holtzy’s never normally this still when she’s awake.”

She rolls back to face Patty, tucks her chin under her sleeping bag and shivers.

“Cold?” Patty asks, amused.

“A little.”

Patty holds her arm out in offer. Erin wriggles into the space gladly, shuffling the small distance until she’s curled into the embrace. “How are you cold? It’s July.”

“I’m always cold. Abby and Holtz are always warm. I don’t know why.”

“Nuclear radiation?” Patty suggests and Erin giggles into her shoulder. “Maybe she’s born with it, maybe it’s radiation poisoning.”

Erin laughs and tries to muffle the sound with her hand. “Stop! I don’t want to think about that. You’re always warm, too.”

“I can assure you it’s not from radiation.”

Erin lifts her head to look at Patty thoughtfully. “I think it’s because you’re just a warm person. You’re so kind and open and loving and warm... and I’m rambling.”

“No, you aren’t. That was sweet.” She presses a sleepy kiss to Erin’s forehead, without really thinking. Erin stiffens under the contact and Patty pulls away sharply. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I just… wasn’t expecting it. But I liked it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Erin shifts position, their faces inches apart. She’s smiling. Abby says she’s never seen Erin smile as much as she does now, and Patty doesn’t ever want that to change. “I can’t believe Holtz made you paint all of her nails different colours.”

Patty scoffs quietly. “I can. Didn’t expect Abby wanting the glitter polish, though.”

Erin hums her agreement. “Tonight was really fun. We should do it again sometime.”

“We should,” Patty echoes, her eyes starting to shut.

“Patty?” Erin whispers, with slight urgency.

“Mm,” Patty mumbles, trying to keep herself awake.

“I… I’m really glad that you’re here with us. I can’t imagine what our lives would be like without you in them. I’m so glad that we’re friends and I love you.”

“I love you too,” Patty whispers and lets herself drift.

 

 


	2. August

** August **

 

“Why are you wearing those clothes?” Kevin asks bluntly as Erin walks in one Tuesday morning.

Patty looks up from her newspaper to see Erin in the beige skirt and blazer she hasn’t worn since the first day they met. She looks tense, shoulders rigid as she holds onto her bag. Abby snorts into her coffee cup and Holtzmann hides her grin behind a pop-tart. Erin glares at them. 

“Lecture theatre is just down the corridor, Dr Gilbert,” Abby teases.

“If you were my professor in college I definitely would’ve showed up to class more often,” Holtzmann smirks, giving Erin a very obvious look up and down.

Patty shakes her head, not wanting the teasing to go too far. “I think you look lovely.”

Erin smiles at that, and Patty sees an almost physical wave of acceptance wash over her. “Thank you.”

  

No explanation for this sudden change of appearance occurs until lunch time approaches. For the past half hour, Erin has been fidgeting non-stop, clicking her pen and tapping her fingers on her desk to the point where Patty’s starting to wish she’d just _stop._

“I’m gonna go get sandwiches from that deli a couple blocks away, you want to come?” Patty asks, hoping that a short walk and some fresh air might help them both.

Erin looks up, startled by the interruption and checks her watch. “Actually I… I can’t. I have somewhere to be.”

“Oh. Right now?”

“Yeah. I have a few errands to run.”

It’s a lie and Patty sees straight through it. She’s certain Erin knows that, too. “Okay, then.”

Erin stands abruptly and stuffs the papers she was just looking at into her briefcase. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah, of course,” Patty trails off. Erin’s already half-way out the door.

 

The digital clock on Patty’s desk reads 20:42 and Erin still hasn’t returned. If she wasn’t so worried, Patty might be annoyed; Erin had up and left with no real explanation, no given destination and no time of when she’d be back. What if they’d been called out to a bust? What if something happened and they couldn’t get hold of her? What if something happened _to her_ , and they had no idea where she was?

Abby had tried calling her phone half a dozen times before giving up, and every time it went straight to voicemail. She and Holtzmann had left a few hours ago, and Patty had wanted to follow soon after, but she thought someone should be here in case Erin came back, and she still hadn’t finished researching the latest haunted site on her list. She sets herself a mental deadline to finish at 21:00 and focuses on her laptop.

A few minutes go by and Patty hears footsteps on the lower floors, then closer and louder still as Erin walks in, a little breathless and smiling wide.

“Hey! I thought everybody left!”

She looks flustered and excited. Patty fights her curiosity.

“Hey,” she says neutrally, tone flat. “Yeah, Holtzmann and Abby left ages ago. Where have you been?”

“Melville.”

Patty frowns. “Melville, Long Island?”

“To visit a physics journal publishing HQ. I contacted them directly a few weeks ago, asking if they were at all interested in paranormal research. They said yes, potentially, and invited me to present our findings at their HQ – well, their official HQ is in Maryland, but Long Island is closer, obviously…” she reaches into her desk cupboard, pulling out two glasses and a full bottle of peach schnapps. “And they really liked it. As in, ‘considering funding our research’ really liked it.”

Patty’s stomach does an excited flip. “What do you mean by considering?”

“They want research proposals. I’ve already outlined the theories me and Abby are working on, but they want to review them in person, with the two of us. We wrote the proposals a while back, so there shouldn’t be any problem with them. They want me and Abby to fly out to the Maryland HQ next week to present to their main team, and then we’ll discuss potential funding.”

“Holy shit! Erin, this is amazing – _you’re_ amazing!” Patty jumps up to hug her tight, spinning slightly as she lifts Erin off her feet. After a few seconds, she puts her down slowly, grinning. “Well done, baby!”

Erin laughs excitedly. She grabs the bottle and pours a generous measure into both glasses and hands one to Patty. “I can’t believe it! I didn’t think they’d even listen to me, let alone offer us funding.”

“You clearly impressed them.” Patty clinks the glasses together and they knock back the alcohol. “How come you didn’t tell us?”

Erin shrugs, still beaming. “I didn’t want to get anyone’s hopes up. Besides, they only said they wanted to talk, not give us grant money.” She exhales sharply and pours another large drink, then downs it. “I feel so buzzed.”

“I’m not surprised! Maybe slow down a little, though,” Patty advises, knowing the dangers of Erin and alcohol.

Erin nods and puts the empty glass down. “Empty stomach, too. Did you eat yet? I’m starving.”

“Nope. Take-out?” Patty suggests, already reaching for her phone to order.

“Indian?”

“Sure,” Patty agrees, because she knows it’s Erin’s favourite. She reaches for the menu she keeps in her own desk drawer and hands it to Erin along with her purse. “Here, you order what you want.”

“I can pay,” Erin insists.

“No way! It’s my treat, you’ve earned it.”

Erin hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Of course! It’s your achievement, let’s celebrate it,” Patty encourages her.

Erin finally takes the phone and purse. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I’m so proud of you.”

The bright eyes, hyperactivity and wide smile drop for the first time since Erin came in. She stills and goes quiet, lowering the phone from her ear.

“Really?”

It’s a genuine question; Patty can hear the doubt in her voice, the quiet need for validation simmering below the surface.

“ _Really_. So proud.”

  

“When are you gonna tell Abby and Holtz?”

They sit on the floor of the living area, half empty food containers piled up in front of them like a campfire.

“Tomorrow morning. I could call them now, but I’d rather tell them in person. Especially Abby.”

Patty grins, picturing the moment. “I can’t wait to see her face.”

“Me too,” Erin says, through a mouthful of pilau rice. “It was scary, you know. Presenting our theories on my own. Before, me and Abby always used to do it together, and when it started to bomb, or we got laughed at, Abby would always deal with it in her own unique way. She always stood up for us while I took a back seat. This is the first time I’ve pitched our ideas on my own. I mean, I’ve done it before for Columbia, but not for _this_. Not for ghosts.”

“And?”

“It felt good. Kind of liberating. Not that Abby has been holding me back, but like…” she trails off, struggling to find the right words.

“Like you’ve been holding yourself back?” Patty suggests.

“Yeah. Like I finally proved myself to myself.” She frowns. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does. Ghost girl Erin always believed in ghosts, right? But Professor Gilbert, doctor of particle physics, didn’t always believe in them. Now ghost girl Erin and Dr Erin Gilbert both believe in ghosts, publicly. Today you presented your paranormal research as Dr Erin Gilbert to a prestigious physics publication. That’s one hell of a step.”

Erin looks up, thoughtful. “How do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Read people. It’s like you have a window into my thoughts. The only person I can read is Abby, but that doesn’t count because she’s an open book.”

“Just observing people, I guess. Or maybe I have psychic powers,” Patty laughs, waving her fork in the air and making a spooky noise. “Power of the supernatural, baby.”

Erin grins and shoves her arm away. “Oh, sure. Psychic powers, I believe you.”

“Hey! Ghosts are real, why can’t I read minds? When we’re done with ghosts, we’ll work on finding aliens next. Damn, Holtzmann would love that shit. Girl’s always picking those crappy horrors for movie night.”

“I know! Why can’t she choose a nice film? I hate horror movies,” Erin complains, scowling a little which Patty finds increasingly endearing.

“For real? We kinda live in one.”

“I know. I just hate the jump scares, they set me on edge.”

Patty considers this. “Well, next time she picks one of those films, we’ll sit together and hold hands, how about that?”

“I’d like that,” Erin smiles, reassured. “My knight in shining armour.”

 

  

* * *

 

 

“Patty, could you pass me that banner?” Abby asks, pointing to the pile of them on the kitchen table.

“Sure.” Patty puts down her cup of tea and hands one to Abby, who stands on a chair ready to pin it up high. Patty unfolds one of the banners to read the message. “’Happy Boo-day, Holtzy!’ Oh, _that’s_ cute. Got it personalised and everything.”

“Only the best for my Holtzy,” Abby says proudly. “She never even told me when her birthday was until this year! Secretive little toad. Thankfully I had you and Erin to help me get it out of her.”

“I would’ve thought Holtzmann loved birthday celebrations. Man, I was expecting her to drag us all on a three-day bender to the finest bars and strip clubs New York has to offer.”

Patty had originally been a little wary of what Holtzmann’s potential birthday party would be like, judging by her well-documented recklessness and love for all things illegal. So, when Holtzmann had insisted that all she wanted was a small afternoon picnic on the firehouse roof with just the four of them (plus Kevin, if he wanted to join), Patty had been surprised, if not relieved.

Abby had nominated herself chief of decorations, arriving early at HQ to put up balloons and banners. Patty had opted to buy the food for the picnic, including every single flavour of pringles the supermarket had to offer, which had been hidden away upon arrival. Erin had offered, which Patty did not expect, to bake a cake. She was more than intrigued to discover what it would look and taste like.

“Nah. I don’t think Holtzmann’s into all that stuff.” She moves to put up another banner and Patty follows behind her to help. “I can’t believe Erin thought Holtzmann would want Kevin to be a stripper for her party,” Abby says, giggling. “Well, I _can_ believe it, but still…”

They both hear the door open and Erin walks in carrying her usual briefcase and an unusual plastic bag. She looks around the room at the decorations. “I like the banners, Abs! Balloons, too. That’s really nice.”

“What’s in the bag, Er?” Patty asks, curiosity getting the better of her.

Erin sets the bag down on the table. “The cake. Want to see?”

“Wait for me!” Abby yells as she steps down from her chair and makes her way over.

Erin pulls a tin out of the bag and removes the lid, revealing a large, circular cake with black and yellow icing comprising the radioactive hazard symbol with a tiny ghost in the middle. She looks up, trying to gauge their reactions. “What do you think? Is it too simple?”

Abby laughs happily. “Erin, this is great! It looks so cool!”

“Holtzy is gonna love this. Especially the little ghost” Patty says. “Didn’t know you were good at baking.”

Erin shrugs. “I’m not _that_ good.”

“You won that baking competition in middle school,” Abby points out.

Patty raises her eyebrows, impressed. “A competition?”

“Yeah, but only four of us competed and somebody dropped their cake on the floor. Technically, I had a 33 percent chance of winning.”

“Nuh-uh,” Abby disagrees. “Remember nobody liked us in school. It must have been a pretty good cake if they voted for it knowing you made it.”

“Maybe,” Erin concedes. She starts to make a coffee for herself in her own storm trooper mug and then starts making a cup of tea. Patty watches on, sipping her own cup of tea, interested as to who this tea is for. Abby, who only ever drinks coffee, disappears to put up more decorations.

“What kind of cake was it?” Patty asks.

“A turtle cake. It was very simple. I gave it a red shell and lost points because turtles don’t have red shells, apparently.”

Patty chuckles. “That’s stupid. When did you start baking, anyway? Was it a hobby?”

Erin puts a sprinkle of cinnamon in the tea and stirs the drinks. “When I was about eleven. My mom said it was a technique you could use to help anxiety, said she read it in a magazine somewhere. We used to do it together.”

“That’s sweet.”

Patty’s never been one for baking – cooking has never been a task she really enjoyed and therefore she never put any time into it, preferring to learn languages and histories of civilisations rather than recipes and how to perfectly boil an egg.

Erin nods slowly and turns around, holding the cup of tea out to Patty. She notices the mug currently in her hands and frowns.

“Oh. You already have one. I’ll just –” she moves to pour it down the sink.

“No!” Patty exclaims, and Erin jumps so hard she almost drops the mug. “I’ll drink it.”

Erin looks bewildered. “You will?”

“Of course. You always make it the way I like it.”

Erin looks at her intently, and not for the first time, Patty finds it hard to read her expression. Usually, she can read facial expressions and body language with ease, like a second language she’d always been fluent in, and with Erin that’s mostly the case. But sometimes, Erin will just _look_ at her, trying to communicate something Patty isn’t sure either of them truly understands yet.

Erin smiles and stays silent, passing her the drink.

 

 When Holtzmann arrived at the firehouse some time later, she seemed slightly overwhelmed by the decorations, but happily so, tearing up a little when she became the victim of a crushing group hug. She’d begged Abby to let them eat cake for breakfast, which Abby agreed to; the cake was delicious – no wonder Erin had won that competition. The rest of the day was so uneventful that Abby agreed, much to Erin and Patty’s dismay, to release a T4 they caught last week so that Holtzmann could have some fun blasting it with her newly refurbished gun.

Holtzmann had asked them to refrain from buying gifts, and meant it, which Patty was extremely relieved about, having had absolutely no idea what to get her. Kevin, it seemed, didn’t get the no-gift memo, and bought her a Scalextric set which Holtzmann was delighted with.

( _“You guys know I’m gonna modify this bad boy to race a mini Ecto-1 round the track, right?”)_

With no ghosts to bust and nobody wanting to do any work on such a warm summer day, they decided to take the afternoon off, starting the celebratory picnic early.

“Pizza flavoured Pringles?” Holtzmann gasps, staring at the many tubes of crisps stacked in front of her on the blanket.

“Got as many flavours as I could find,” Patty says, sitting back to lean against the wall of the roof.

Holtzmann gasps again, this time louder. “ _Jalapeno flavour_?”

“What?” Erin and Abby both say in unison, not quite sure if they heard correctly.

Abby reaches for the tube in Holtzmann’s hands and studies it. “Yep, Jalapeno. Where the hell did you find these, Patty?”

“The supermarket. With the rest of the food.”

Holtzmann shoves two mini sausage rolls into her mouth and grins widely. “Tastes good, P.”

Erin groans at the sight. “Looks awful.”

Holtzmann munches happily, then lies down on the blanket, resting her head in Abby’s lap. Patty watches on fondly as Abby strokes her fingers through Holtzmann’s unruly hair. At first, she thought there was something more than friendship between the two; their knowing glances, kisses to each other’s cheeks and foreheads and near-constant hugging could easily be mistaken for romantic interest. She'd been pleasantly surprised to discover that this was nothing but the display of pure, unadulterated friendship.

Erin changes the song on Abby’s speaker, grabs two sandwiches and a paper plate and scoots back to join Patty against the wall, their shoulders touching.

“Here,” Erin offers, holding the second sandwich out to her.

“Thanks. You look cute, by the way,” Patty compliments.

Before their picnic, Erin had changed out of her usual work attire into something more suited to the sunny weather; a pair of grey cotton shorts and a navy and white striped t-shirt, her hair tied back into a ponytail.

“Aw, Er you’re blushing!” Abby laughs, not unkindly.

Erin scoffs, indignant. “What? No, I’m not.”

Holtzmann lifts her head from Abby’s lap to look. “Yeah, you are.”

Erin sighs in defeat, resting her head on Patty’s shoulder, which is a surprise, as she isn’t normally much of a ‘touchy’ person, not like Holtz or Abby.

“You look cute, too,” she says quietly, when Abby and Holtzmann are distracted. “What was your favourite birthday?”

“My thirteenth. We had an unplanned barbecue in the garden; we didn’t expect to get such a warm day in March.”

“March what?” Erin interrupts.

“Seventh.”

“Okay,” Erin says, evidently filing the information away. “Continue.”

“It was kind of like today. Just having my folks around, eating barbecue food, having a good time. I remember my brother got me a skateboard,” Patty smiles at the memory of that day, letting herself get lost in it for a moment. “He tried to teach me, but I was terrible at it. Too tall, that was my problem. Long way to fall and boy, did I fall.”

Erin chuckles into Patty’s shoulder. “What happened?”

“Crashed right off it on my first try. My mom lost it, she thought I’d broken something, I made such a racket. Got my brother in a lot of trouble, I can tell you.”

Erin tilts her head to look up at her, eyes deep blue, a constellation of freckles dotted across her nose. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”

“Yeah,” Patty says simply, not wanting to get into that, not now.

Erin nods, accepting this, and rests her head on Patty’s shoulder again. Abby starts building a Pringle tower on Holtzmann’s forehead, both of them giggling uncontrollably. Patty finds herself leaning into Erin’s touch. Everyone is here, everyone is calm, everyone is _happy_.

For the first time in a long time, Patty feels a wave of contentedness wash over her.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Tolan get your butt over here! We’re about to start!” Abby yells from the living area.

Patty rolls her eyes and grabs the popcorn bag from the microwave. It’s Holtzmann’s movie night, and expectedly it’s another horror, but she’s interested to see if Erin will act on their conversation from a few weeks ago.

“Coming,” she yells back, retreating to the living area and sitting on the couch Erin is currently sat on, maintaining an appropriate distance between them in case Erin didn’t want to take up her previous offer.

Holtzmann sits on the floor, fiddling with the DVD player. “I hope you’re ready for Alien Resurrection.”

Patty groans and holds the popcorn out for them both to take a handful. “Really?”

Holtzmann grins. “Of course.”

Abby draws the curtains, trying to make it darker - a difficult task due to the late summer evening light. She sits on the floor next to Holtzmann, on a variety of cushions and blankets. Holtzmann starts the movie. Patty turns to Erin, who smiles weakly at her, looking a little wary.

The first jump scare approaches, and Erin leans into Patty’s arm, in what she suspects is an unconscious movement. The first scare isn’t too bad, but as tension in the film starts to build, she notices that Erin’s reactions get worse, the latest being a sharp flinch as she moves to hide behind Patty’s shoulder.

“You okay?” Patty whispers, not wanting the others to hear.

Erin nods unconvincingly. Patty moves her hand from her lap to rest palm up on her leg, closer to Erin. It’s an obvious move, but she wants to give Erin the option, because she’s not sure she would ever ask.

Even Abby yells at the next scare, and Patty feels her own heart rate rocket as another creature flashes across the screen. Holtzmann laughs gleefully as the next member of the ill-fated crew gets eaten. Erin makes a swift grab for her hand and holds tight, locking their fingers together in a firm grip.

Patty looks down at their joined hands. Erin’s knuckles are pale and her nails are still pink from when Patty painted them a few weeks ago, except now the paint is patchy and worn off in places. She makes a mental note to offer to paint them again.

They sit in this position for the remainder of the film, warmth shared between them where Erin’s legs, left mostly uncovered by cotton shorts, press against Patty’s. It’s nice, Patty thinks, to have her so close. From here, she can smell the light fragrance of Erin’s perfume - something floral and fresh - can hear every sudden intake of breath, can feel the softness of her skin as her arm rests on Patty’s thigh.

“Woo!” Holtzmann cheers as the end credits roll, high-fiving Abby enthusiastically.

Patty feels Erin exhale sharply, the breath flowing against her neck, causing a small shiver to ripple across her shoulders. Erin slowly releases her hold on her hand and extracts herself from the embrace.

She looks up, suddenly shy. “Thanks. Sorry if I gripped you too tight.”

“S’okay. Anytime,” Patty says quietly.

“Bed time,” Abby declares, mid-yawn.

“Bagsy sharing with Patty!” Holtzmann yells. Abby feigns a hurt expression. “Sorry Abs, but you snore.”

“I do not!” Abby retorts and throws a cushion at Holtzmann’s head.

“Why don’t you want to share with me?” Erin asks, defensive.

“You’re too bony. I’d probably wake up with your elbow up my nose.” Holtzmann ducks another cushion destined for her head. “Patty is the perfect sleeping partner.”

“Not sure I can say the same for you, Holtzy,” Patty replies, remembering one uncomfortable night she spent sharing a bed with Holtzmann last movie night. The blonde had twitched and fidgeted constantly, until Patty took it upon herself to push her as far as she could to the other side of the double bed.

Holtzmann snickers and hauls Patty to her feet, leaving Erin behind on couch.

“Looks like it’s me and you, Er,” Abby says and stands.

“Just like the old days.”

 

They make the journey up to the first floor to the two double bedrooms they’d had installed just after they moved in. Abby and Erin say their goodnights, then disappear into the first bedroom. Patty and Holtzmann enter the second, Holtzmann diving under the covers and pulling Patty with her, until they lie close enough to whisper.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Holtzmann asks.

“How should I know?”

Holtzmann burrows further under the duvet. “Because you know everything, duh.”

Patty sighs. She wants to ask Holtzmann something, but she’s not entirely sure why. “Holtzy?”

“Yes?”

“Are you and Erin... you know?”

Holtzmann stares at her blankly. Sometimes Patty forgets how hard it is for Holtzmann to read between the lines.

“You flirt with Erin a lot,” she says, a statement, not a question.

“Yes.”

“Do you like her? Romantically?”

Holtzmann blinks and stays silent for half a minute. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay.”

That’s not what she expected her to say.

“I mean... she's really pretty and sweet and clever.”

“But?” Patty supplies.

“I only flirt with her because it’s funny to see her reaction. When we first met she was super uptight and I just wanted to fluster her a little.” Holtzmann looks worried. “Why? Has she said something? I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

“She hasn’t said anything,” Patty reassures her. “I’m just curious.”

“Erin is straight so nothing would ever happen.” Holtzmann continues, deep in thought.

“But if she wasn’t? Would you like her then?”

Holtzmann considers this possibility. “No. I don’t think we would be a good match.”

“Because you work together?”

“No. Because we're just... different. Which is a good thing, I guess, but I don’t think we would last as a couple.”

Patty nods. “It might make things awkward if you broke up?”

“Yeah...” Holtzmann trails off. “I think maybe... maybe I would like to kiss her - just to see what it would be like.”

“I understand that.”

Patty thinks about that, too, sometimes; what it would feel like to kiss certain people. She imagines Abby would be soft and inviting, would probably have to stand on her tiptoes to reach Patty’s height. Holtzmann would find some way of launching herself into Patty’s arms before kissing her firmly. Erin would wait until they were both at the same height, comfortable and seated, and too close to avoid the pull of each other’s gravity. She would press her hand to Patty’s cheek and guide their lips together, shy and hesitant, slow and gentle.

 Laughter from the adjacent room breaks Patty’s thoughts. Holtzmann prods her chin and smiles, eyes closed.

“Sleep tight, Pattycakes.”

Patty thinks about that last kiss for a little while longer.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe... leave a comment if you liked it? 
> 
> see you next week pals


	3. September

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to the peeps leaving comments! you truly make my day :)

** September **

“Paint?”

“Check.”

“Paint brushes?”

“Check.”

“Tape?”

“Check.”

“Spare coveralls, old furniture covered with sheets, new flatpack furniture, windows open so we don’t inhale paint fumes and die?”

“All check,” Patty grins, ticking off an imaginary checklist with a flourish.

“I think that’s everything,” Erin says conclusively. “Shall we start?”

“You forgot one little thing,” Patty reminds her. “Music?”

“Check,” Erin laughs, hitting play on the speaker they’d borrowed from Abby for the weekend. The opening track of _Rumours_ blares out and they get to work, painting opposite walls of the third floor, planning to meet in the middle.

After much deliberation at the store, mostly from Erin, (‘How about this colour? Or this one? Or... _this one_? This colour is nice.’) they'd settled on a light purple paint. To stop themselves getting covered in paint they wore spare coveralls, which they often used when they had back-to-back busts and no time to wash their official uniforms. They’d picked a sunny weekend to redecorate so that the paint would dry quickly between coats, giving them time to assemble the new flat pack furniture they’d bought – a task Patty's beginning to dread.

After just over an hour of painting they finish their respective walls and decide to take a break before starting on the flat pack furniture.

“I forgot how much I hate DIY,” Patty mumbles, reading through the instruction leaflet with a frown.

“I don’t mind it,” Erin says neutrally, already assembling parts.

“Maybe we should’ve got Holtzy to help us, her being an engineer and all.”

“Are you kidding? Holtz calls instructions _de_ structions. You seriously want her to help build your new bookcase? She’d probably give it a gun.”

Patty chuckles. “Okay. Maybe not.”

They sit in the middle of the room surrounded by planks of wood and a million tiny screws. It’s almost noon and hotter now - Erin has since unzipped her coveralls and tied the top half around her waist, revealing a white t-shirt underneath. She has her hair tied back in a ponytail, a smudge of purple paint under her left eye and another just under her chin.

Physically, Erin has changed since they first met.

The dark circles under her eyes have faded considerably and her face is fuller – though, perhaps that’s just the insane amount of take-out they order. Her hair is longer, past her shoulders now, and she’s less pale, tanned from the many hours they spend outside. There’s noticeable muscle on her arms and shoulders. Her eyes sparkle, and she smiles more; Patty thinks she gives off a glow.

“What?”

“Huh?”

It’s not her most articulate response ever.

“You’re staring at me. Do I have a bug in my hair or something?” Erin laughs nervously.

Patty drops her gaze. “Oh, no. Sorry. Didn’t realise I was staring.”

They go silent, the low music from Abby’s speaker providing background noise. ~~~~

“It’s just… you’re really beautiful, Erin.”

Erin’s eyes dart up to meet Patty’s and a light blush spreads across her cheeks, a hint of a smile playing across her lips.

“I think you’re beautiful, too.”

 

Erin's surprisingly good at DIY, her knowledge of power-drills and screwdrivers was not something Patty had expected, neither was her skilled use of such tools, and they assembled the two bookcases in time to paint the second coat.

Almost finished with painting the second coat on the first wall, Patty gets ready to take a break, her arms starting to ache with effort.

Out of the blue, Erin gasps as the song changes to something fast and upbeat. “Oh! I like this one. Dance with me?”

“Sure thing,” Patty agrees, trying to keep the shock off her face. Never, _ever_ has she seen Erin ask anyone to dance with her. She’ll join in with them in post-bust celebrations, but never has she asked before – not strangers at the bars they visit, not Abby when they have team nights in.

Erin puts her paint roller to one side, pulls Patty towards her and starts to ‘dance’. If robots could be awkward, Patty would describe it as awkward and robotic.

She winces. “Oh, baby, no. That’s not how you dance.”

“What do you mean?”

“You have got to move those hips. Come here.” Patty beckons her closer and Erin obliges, taking a few steps until they’re face to face. “Okay, so,” Patty begins, placing her hand on Erin’s hip, “less stiff this time.”

It takes longer than expected, but eventually Erin gets the swing of it, literally. Her movements become more fluid and Patty can almost dance with her properly.

“I think I’m getting it,” Erin says happily, squealing as Patty spins her and lets go. Erin takes it as an opportunity to go solo, reverting back to her own unique dance style.

“Alright! A freestyle, I like it! Very interpretive,” Patty says, laughing hard. Erin grins back at her, and Patty’s glad that she finally seems to understand that she always laughs with her, not at her.

“I’m a free spirit,” Erin laughs, pointing to the bottle of white spirit they’d bought to clean their paint brushes. “And because, you know, ghosts are spirits. Double pun!”

Erin laughs at her own jokes more than anyone else does and Patty’s beginning to realise why. She laughs anyway because by Erin’s standards, that was a high-quality joke.

After a further five-minute dance break they get back to work and finally finish the second coat of paint and all their tasks for the day. Patty’s more than pleased with the result; the light purple paint gives the room a well-needed lift and the new bookcases mean all her books are off the floor. They make a plan to deep clean the third floor tomorrow and install the new couch (if Holtzmann could have one in her lab, why couldn’t they have one?) as well as minor decorations such as whiteboards and maps.

As a reward for their hard work, Erin orders them pizza and ice-cream which Patty goes to collect from the ground floor, not enjoying walking back up so many flights of stairs. On her return, Erin is sat next to Patty’s bookcase.

“I put all your books in alphabetical order. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Nope. Thank you.”

They sit on a picnic blanket on the hard floor, admiring their handiwork whilst they eat. Patty can’t shake the feeling that they look like a couple who just decorated their new apartment together.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” Erin asks.

“Fire away.”

“What are your thoughts on relationships? Romantic ones.”

Patty sighs, taking another slice of pizza. “I think a lot of people are in relationships when they don’t need to be. There’s pressure and expectation to find someone, so people often get with the wrong person just because they don’t want to be single, and that never ends well. Romantic relationships are cool – they can be fun and rewarding and supportive – but you don’t _need_ them. You’re not gonna die without one.”

“I used to be like that,” Erin admits. “Academia was cut-throat, all I ever wanted was to fit in. I dated a couple of the professors in the science department, just because I thought I should. It wasn’t great.”

“I’ve had my fair share of bad relationships, too, baby. And just because you love someone, doesn’t mean you should be with them, either. You know when people say, ‘If you love someone you’ll do anything to be together?' That’s bull. If you love someone, you want them to be happy. And if you’re not happy together, then you shouldn’t be together.”

 

The first woman Patty ever loved was a girl she’d met while temping as a receptionist for a car dealership in ‘95. Michelle, a twenty-nine year old business woman from Rochester, had walked in one dreary Wednesday afternoon and lit up Patty's life. She was gorgeous – a bright blue pantsuit perfectly complemented her dark skin tone, her long hair lightly curled, coral pink heels completing her outfit.

It wasn’t until she walked in that Patty truly understood the meaning of love at first sight.

The entirety of the all-male sales team had practically fallen over themselves, lining up just behind Patty’s desk, trying to get the chance to talk to this woman. It seemed the woman only had eyes for her; deep brown eyes that Patty felt herself get swallowed up in as her latest customer leaned casually against her desk.

( “I’d like to buy a car.”

  “You’re in the right place!”                                                                  

  “I’m looking for a new model, ’94 plate ideally. What would you recommend?” 

  “I… I don’t drive.”

  “That’s not what I asked.”

  A kind smile, teasing almost. Patty jump starts into action, reaching for a glossy catalogue.

  “The Audi S4. That’s a nice one. It’s a ’94 plate, too.”

  The woman looks at the picture. “It is. Which colour?”  

  “I like the red.”

  She looked as though she was genuinely considering Patty’s recommendation, then sighed. “I think I’m about to be swept away by a salesman. Well, thank you for your help…”

  “Patty.”

  "Patty. I’m Michelle.” )

Michelle picked her up for their first date in a red Audi S4 with a ’94 plate a week later.

Love came quickly, it always did for Patty, and they’d moved in together just after a year. Michelle was smart, capable and absolutely brilliant. Patty loved her more than anyone she’d ever met. They had everything any couple would ever want; love, kindness, forgiveness, understanding, passion, parental approval.

Inevitably, Michelle rose higher and higher up the ranks of the company she worked for, earning herself a job offer at the company HQ in Seattle. Patty knew then that their time together was over. Michelle had to take that job, and even if she didn't, a similar opportunity would surely arise later on. But Patty wouldn’t go with her, wouldn’t leave New York behind and long distance wouldn’t do their love justice. They fought, bitterly, but Michelle eventually came to the same conclusion, leaving for Seattle three weeks later.

Patty still thought about her sometimes, where she was and what she was doing. She supposed she’d like to see her again, just to talk. She wondered if Michelle had seen her on the news recently and what she thought of the ghost apocalypse.

 

“I agree with that,” Erin nods, bringing Patty out of her nostalgia. “What do you look for in a person?”

_Person._

Interesting choice of word. Patty couldn’t remember mentioning dating women. She hadn’t come out to any of her colleagues, mainly because she didn’t know what to ‘come out’ as, never opting to give herself a label. Things were easier that way - it seemed unrestricted, to her at least. Perhaps Erin was just being respectful, being unassuming of Patty’s sexual preferences (not that she had any).

“They gotta be nice, generally kind and empathetic - I don’t want to be dating someone nasty. They need to be ambitious and passionate about something they love. We need to be able to have fun together. They need to be smart, not necessarily book-smart, but intelligent. Respectful. Similar tastes in TV, film, sports and music would be nice. Attractive, not like a model or anything, but good-looking, someone I can get freaky with.”

“Get freaky,” Erin giggles. “Abby used to say that in college. I’ll tell her it’s back in fashion.”

Patty laughs and claps her hands together. “Oh my god, I almost forgot! Bad hygiene is a red flag. One time I dated a guy who said he never washed his hands with soap! Ever!”

Erin grimaces. “What? _Why_?”

“Said it was gay to have his hands smelling nice. And he didn’t tell me this until after we’d slept together! I was like, uh, you’ve been _inside_ me. I can’t believe I didn’t get a UTI.” Patty shivers at the thought. “Anyway, what about you? What do you look for?”

“Mostly the same things you said. I just want someone to like me for me, that’s never really happened before. I would always pretend to be somebody I wasn’t because I was scared to be myself and put people off. Now, I want someone to love me for who I am already, not who I think they want me to be.” Erin sighs, wistful. “Do you think that will happen? That I’ll meet someone like that?”

“Of course!" Patty reassures her. "I’m a firm believer that there’s somebody out there for everybody. You just gotta find them.”

“Like a soulmate?”

“Kinda. But I think you get more than one. I think there’s a few people you can truly fall in love with and be with forever – but there’s so many different factors that can affect it. If the timing is wrong, it won’t happen. I think it’s stupid to say there’s only one person in the whole world out there for you.”

“Lots of variables to take into consideration,” Erin muses. “I feel ready, though. Like I’m just waiting for that person to walk into my life.”

“Maybe you’ve already met them,” Patty suggests.

Erin visibly brightens, excited by that prospect. “Maybe. I hope so.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Patty, have I ever told you that you remind me of a tree?” Erin asks, four tequila shots in.

Abby groans, like she’s seen this before.

Holtzmann grins into her cider can. “Would you like to climb Patty like a tree, Erin?”

“Shhhh.” Erin physically covers Holtzmann’s mouth with her hand, which Holtzmann licks. “Let me speak,” she requests even though she’s the one covering Holtzmann’s mouth.

“I’m listening,” Patty says.

It’s one of their team nights in, fuelled by alcohol and a ridiculous amount of take-out. Abby labels it ‘team training exercise’ on the finance sheet. Jennifer Lynch definitely isn’t convinced but never mentions it.

Patty loves these nights, chatting and laughing together until they give up and go home or sleep upstairs overnight. They talk about everything; their current work, past jobs and childhoods. Abby always has brilliant stories about her and Erin’s misadventures as kids. Holtzmann comes out with the weirdest stuff. Patty tells them about people she used to observe at work. Erin tells them about the dangerous world of academia at Columbia (‘It’s worse than game of thrones.’ ‘With incest?’ ‘Yes, Abby, with incest.’)

“Patty, you remind me of a tree,” Erin begins again, reaching across the space between the adjacent sofas to take Patty’s hand, cool and soft, like when they held hands at movie night.

“Because I’m tall?”

“Because you have big, strong arms like branches. You're always there through all the seasons. You weather every storm and shelter us. You have lots of roots and complex parts of you that sometimes we can't see. Also, you’re really fricking tall…” Erin trails off, embarrassed despite being intoxicated.

“Thank you, baby,” Patty says, sincere and recognising that this is more than a drunken ramble. She gives Erin’s hand a squeeze, oddly touched by the sudden speech that she’s clearly put some thought into, with or without realising it.

Holtzmann finishes her cider and Erin has one more shot before they confiscate the bottle from her and decide it’s time to go to bed. Abby's already asleep on one couch, so Holtzmann says she’ll sleep on the other, to keep an eye on her. Patty decides to take one of the double beds they keep on the first floor and drags a half-asleep Erin with her.

“I can sleep on the floor,” Erin whines, unhappy about climbing a set of stairs.

“You are _not_ sleeping on the floor. You’re sharing with me,” Patty says with a sigh, anxious of leaving Erin on her own after consuming so much alcohol.

They finally make it to the first floor and Erin disappears to find pyjamas to sleep in. Patty does the same and crawls under the covers of the double bed, suddenly feeling tired. Erin reappears a few minutes later, changed into pyjama shorts and a top. Patty can just about see her faint tan from the summer on her arms and legs before Erin shuffles under the duvet.

Patty turns off the bedside lamp and the dozens of fluorescent stars that Abby stuck to the ceiling glow. They lie in silence for a few moments, then Erin turns onto her side, facing Patty.

“Sometimes I get night terrors when I’ve been drinking. If I get one and you wake up, would you please wake me, too? Once I wake up they end, so I won’t be disturbing you anymore.”

Patty nods, unsure of what to say.

“Can we cuddle?” Erin asks, plainly enough, but Patty can’t help but notice the vulnerability.

Her heart stutters for a brief moment, and she’s not sure why, but it’s late and she’s tired so she decides not to think about it. “Of course.”

Erin shuffles into the space next to her and turns over again so she’s facing away from Patty. “You can be the big spoon,” she mumbles.

Patty smiles and wraps an arm around Erin’s waist, pulling her close so that her back is flush against her front. “Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“You’re the tree,” Erin explains, her voice almost a whisper, like she could fall asleep at any second. She places a hand on the arm Patty has around her waist. “See? Branches.”

Patty chuckles and gives Erin’s hip a light squeeze, enjoying the warmth of holding her close. “Night, Erin.”

* * *

 

 

Two T3s in an old barn is never a good way to kick off a Friday afternoon.

All week, Erin has seemed on edge, irritable even, like she's about to explode, and nobody seems to know why.

Wednesday was the worst Patty had seen her since she’d punched that weasel journalist. Erin had barely spoken to her all day and jumped in her seat at any loud noises, back rigid, shoulders squared. Of the multiple times Patty had asked, Erin had answered, unconvincingly, that she was fine. She clearly wasn’t, but Patty didn’t want to prise the information out of her.

Yesterday had been more of the same, and Patty was _sure_ Erin had cried at some point, eyes rimmed red as she continued to stare at her notebook. Patty hoped that, as the week drew to a close, they’d get lucky and have no busts on Friday, so Erin could go home and get over whatever was bothering her.

Of course, that hasn’t happened.

Erin’s shoulders sag as the call comes in, a frustrated sigh escaping her as she packs away her work and heads down to the changing room. Patty follows and watches on in sympathy as Erin shrugs on her suit, movements tired and stiff.

“You sure you want to come?” Patty asks, trying not to make the situation worse and placing a hand on Erin’s shoulder.

Erin looks up, a little startled by the touch. “Yeah. Just tired. Sorry I’m so...,” she gestures to herself.

“It's okay. You don’t have to explain,” Patty reassures her, giving her arm a slight squeeze.

Erin flashes a brief smile. “Thank you,” she says, genuinely grateful.

“Patty, you know anything about a haunted barn in New Brunswick?” Abby asks urgently as she walks into the changing room, Holtzmann close behind her.

“Not particularly,” Patty answers and turns back to Erin, who has busied herself fiddling with her proton pack.

“Patty!” Holtzmann admonishes, like she honestly expected her to know a random barn 50 miles away. She grins and zips up her overalls, grabbing her own proton pack and another device Patty hasn’t seen before. “Last one to the Ecto owes me ten bucks!”

Nobody runs after her.

“Erin, what’s wrong?” Abby asks, abrupt and to the point.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit,” Abby replies and Patty winces. “What’s wrong?”

“My parents emailed,” Erin shrugs, trying to act nonchalant as she finishes buttoning her suit. Patty might be slightly critical of Abby’s methods, but they certainly yielded good results.

“Oh,” Abby says, an understanding passing between them that Patty is sometimes envious of. “You want to talk about it?”

“Nope,” Erin says decisively with a shake of her head and walks out to the car.

Patty shoots Abby a look but doesn’t say anything.

 

 

She’s almost reluctant to see Erin pair up with Abby for the bust, taking one last look at her as they go in separate directions.

"What's up with Erin?" Holtzmann asks, as soon as they're out of earshot, always keen to get the gossip. "She seems... meh.”

"She said her parents emailed her."

Holtzmann pulls a face. " _Emailed_? In this day and age?" She shakes her head in mock disgust. "What'd they say?"

Patty shrugs. "I don’t know."

"And now she's upset."

"Uh-huh."

"Bullseye," Holtzman whispers, and pulls the trigger as a ghost farmer peeks around a hay bale.

 

 

Abby radios through that the other ghost has also been caught. They head back to the Ecto and find Abby and Erin already there waiting for them.  Their coveralls are splattered with slime, but as always Erin seems to have come off worse, ectoplasm smeared along her neck, but thankfully not on her face or in her hair.

"We ready to go?" Abby calls over as they approach.

Holtzmann holds up the containment unit in reply. Erin gets in the car. They ride back without much discussion, the bust had been fairly routine, the only sound coming from Holtzmann drumming her fingers along to the song on the radio. Patty tries to catch Erin's eye from the side mirror a few times but fails because Erin looks down at the floor for the whole journey.

Patty feels her heart sink. She just wants her friends to be happy.

As soon as they get back, Erin strips out of her suit and dumps it in the washing machine they had installed. She grabs a few sheets of paper towel, wipes the slime roughly off her neck and sits at the table, fiddling with the knife Holtzmann gave her. Abby and Holtzmann both disappear upstairs to move the recently captured ghosts to a more secure containment unit.

"You want a drink? I was gonna make tea, if you want some."

"I think I might go home."

Patty tries not to let the disappointment show in her face. "Oh."

"Yeah. Sorry,” Erin sighs, fingers still playing with the knife. It’s a sign of anxiety or uncertainty that Patty has noticed over the past month or so. “I feel like I’m dragging you guys down when I’m here. Maybe I should try doing my work at home. Or not do my work. I feel distracted.”

“Distracted how?” Patty asks, trying to keep her tone conversational.

“Just thinking about things.”

“That email?”

Erin nods and looks down at the table. “I’m gonna go home,” she decides and stands, her chair scraping loudly against the floor. “If the others ask, will you tell them I didn’t feel well?”

Patty nods.

 

 

“Where’s Erin?” Abby asks twenty minutes later.

“Went home,” Patty says as coolly as possible, hoping Abby will let it drop.

“Home?”

“She’s ill.”

“I'm gonna go see her,” Abby decides, grabbing her jacket from her desk chair.

“No!” Patty says, a little too quickly and tries to recover. “You don’t need to go. I said I’d check in on her later.”

Abby seems half-convinced. “You did?”

Patty nods, not trusting herself to say more.

Abby puts her jacket back on her chair.

 

 

The large, floral clock that Erin put up in the kitchen hits 5:31 and Patty decides it’s time to go.

“Say hi from me!” Holtzmann calls from the floor she’s been lying on for two hours.

Abby nods in agreement.

 

 

The walk to Erin’s apartment is thankfully short – short enough that Patty doesn’t have time to talk herself out of turning up uninvited, and probably unwanted. Why _was_ she doing this, again? With no time to reconsider, she’s already at the door and it’s too late to turn around and walk home.

Patty presses the buzzer labelled Dr E. Gilbert. No response. She presses it again. A long pause signals maybe it’s time to give up.

“Who is it?” Erin asks over the intercom, voice strained.

“Patty. I thought you might-" she’s cut off by the sound of the door clicking open. Surprised, Patty makes her way up the stairs to the second floor.

She’s only been to Erin’s apartment once before now, a quick five-minute stop on their way to the firehouse one morning. Patty let’s herself into the apartment, because the door is unlocked, and Erin hasn’t appeared.

It’s a lot messier than she remembers; unwashed cups and plates are piled up in the sink, pieces of notepad paper are strewn across the dining table, a sweatshirt crumpled on the floor. Not like the pristinely neat, barely lived in apartment Patty saw last time.

“Hey,” Erin says, sat on the couch with her laptop next to her. She appears to have showered, her hair slightly damp and untamed, now wearing a navy hoody and light grey sweatpants. It’s such a contrasting look to when Patty first met her a few months ago that she takes a few moments to take in Erin’s appearance.

“Hey,” Patty replies cautiously from the doorway. “You okay?”

Erin nods, barely looking up from her laptop screen. She gestures vaguely to her surroundings. “Just a bad week. Sorry for the mess.”

“I’m guessing you’ve never been to Holtzmann’s place if you think this is a mess,” Patty starts, trying to lighten the mood somehow. Erin smiles briefly, which she counts as a small win. “Should I sit?”

“Oh, yeah.” Erin clears a space next to her, shoving a notepad onto the floor. Patty sits and upon closer inspection, Erin’s eyes are tinged red from crying, dark circles under her eyes showing from where her makeup has washed away. “I don’t mean to sound rude, but why are you here? I thought Abby would be the one to come over.”

“She was, but I told her we’d already agreed I would check on you later, so she didn’t.”

“We didn’t agree that,” Erin points out.

“I know. It’s just… you said to tell her you were ill, so I assumed you didn’t want to see her. Maybe I shouldn’t have assumed that, I’m sorry. Do you want me to go? I don’t mind if you do, I just thought I should check on you, so…” Patty bites her lip, feeling awkward and slightly guilty.

“I want you to stay,” Erin decides. “And thank you for diverting Abby. It’s not that I don’t want her help, she can just be a little… overbearing, sometimes.”

Patty nods. “I see that. So, what did you need help with? Anything I can do?”

“Reply to this email for me?” Erin asks, with a small huff. “It’s from my parents – well, my mom wrote it. I don’t know how to respond. Will you…?” She gently pushes the laptop into Patty’s hands, as though it might bite her.

 ~~~~

_Erin,_

_It is so exhausting to literally watch you throw your life away on a weekly basis via TV news reports. I truly believed you’d grown out of this attention seeking behaviour by now, but it seems you clearly haven’t. Perhaps you think you are doing the right thing, or perhaps you’re doing this to punish me again. I’ve had multiple letters from news broadcasters over the past few months asking for information about your childhood ‘ghost’, many of them offering money in return, but I refuse to gain any kind of profit from your lies, which it appears you are completely comfortable with._

_This is so disappointing, Erin. We both thought you were doing so well at Columbia; A tenure-track position at such a prestigious college is something to be truly proud of. I thought that finally, after years of setbacks from self-destructive behaviour, you would make something of yourself._

_Your whole life I have tried so hard to support you, but you continue to throw it all back in my face. I don’t know how we will continue to be there for you if you keep doing this. It is selfish and manipulative of you to think that pulling these publicity stunts will make us believe you after all these years._

_I can only assume that this behaviour has made a return due to a serious relapse in your mental health. If this is the case, then I strongly encourage you to seek professional help. Please stop this nonsense before you ruin everything you’ve worked so hard for._

_Mom and Dad_

Patty begins her second reading of the email, feeling Erin’s eyes on her, careful to keep her face neutral despite her looming anger. When Erin said that her parents didn’t believe her, she had no idea they could be this awful, so hurtful and cruel. And that now, even after everything – the news reports, video footage, scientific research – they _still_ didn’t believe her.

Patty can’t even begin to imagine how much damage words like these could do to someone her own age, let alone a child terrified by the ghost at the end of their bed.

“What do you think I should say?” Erin asks quietly, a nervous edge to her voice.

“I don’t…” Patty starts and stops. She turns to Erin, who shrinks under her gaze. “How does this make you feel?”

“Bad,” Erin whispers. “Really bad. I don’t know how to put it right. I don’t know how to make them happy.”

Patty shakes her head in disbelief, flipping the laptop shut and placing it to one side. “Erin, no. This isn’t right.”

Erin shrugs and wipes roughly at her eyes. “I don’t know anymore.”

“Oh, baby,” Patty sighs and reaches out to pull her into a hug. Erin settles into her lap with her head tucked under Patty’s chin. “This is so _wrong_. None of this is true, okay? You are not selfish or manipulative. _This_ ,” she points accusingly at the laptop, “is manipulative.”

 _It’s abusive_ , is what Patty wants to say but she doesn’t, simply letting Erin cry into her neck, holding her as close as she can, anything to make her feel loved.

“But what if she’s right?” Erin asks, voice cracking. “What if I _have_ relapsed again?”

The ‘again’ makes Patty’s heart hurt and her anger peak simultaneously. It’s physically painful to see Erin’s slowly built confidence in herself over the past few months be totally stripped away and replaced with crippling self-doubt.

“Erin, I've known you for a while now and I honestly don’t think that’s true. The past couple of months you’ve seemed really happy, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, I do. I really have been,” Erin says, sounding wistful. She pulls away to look at Patty, sniffing hard and wiping away tears with her sleeve. “I can’t remember ever being this happy.”

“So…” Patty starts, trying to lead her to the conclusion.

“So, I haven’t relapsed. What would you do if you were me? What would you say to her?”

Patty chews the inside of her cheek, unsure if she wants to give what could be bad advice on such a complex situation. “I’m not sure…”

Erin reaches for her hand and holds tight, as though she’s scared Patty will leave. “Please. Just tell me what _you_ would do. That doesn’t mean I’ll do the same thing.”

Patty sighs, unable to hold back. “Honestly? I, personally, would not reply and delete the email. Probably block the sender’s address, too.”

Erin sits in silence for a few moments, stunned, like she hadn’t even thought of that as an option. She frowns deeply, eyes wide. “And what would that solve?”

“It wouldn’t,” Patty admits with a shrug. “But if I don’t know how to stop something from hurting me, if I don’t think it’s possible to fix the problem, then I get rid of the problem.”

“And my Mom is the problem,” Erin says slowly, as though realising this for the first time.

“Your Mom not believing you after thirty years and sending you shit like this is the problem,” Patty replies a little too briskly, but Erin smiles faintly.

“I don’t think she’ll ever believe me. And if she doesn’t believe me… I don’t think I can fix it. Because this is real, right?”

It’s framed as a rhetorical question, but Patty can hear the last vestiges of doubt cling to her words.

“Of course it’s real, baby,” Patty reassures her gently, lightly squeezing their still joined hands. “It’s all real.”

“Then I don’t think I can fix this. Because I know I’m right, but my Mom will never accept that. She’ll keep on sending emails that make me feel bad. I should delete…” She sits up, reaching for the laptop.

“Erin, please don’t do this just because I said that’s what I would do,” Patty says quickly.

“I’m not,” Erin replies, sounding calm as she fires up the computer. “I’m not doing this because it’s what you think I _should_ be doing, but because you made me realise that I _can_ do it.”

Patty’s not sure how to respond to that, but Erin’s newfound autonomy makes her heart swell.

“Will you do it with me?” Erin asks, mouse hovering over the ‘permanently delete’ button of the email.

Patty places her hand over Erin’s and together they _click._

 

 

“Hi,” Erin greets her on Monday morning, back to her usual self.

“Good weekend?” Patty asks, neutrally. Maybe too neutrally.

Erin smiles. “Very good.”

“Oh,” Patty replies, conversationally. “I’m glad to hear that.”

“Funny thing happened, though. I got this email on Saturday morning.”

“Who from?” Patty asks, as she leans back – very casually - against the counter.

Erin shrugs. “Not sure. Didn’t recognise the address.”

Patty’s cup of tea suddenly becomes very interesting. “What did it say?”

“It was very sweet. The sender said they wanted to take time out of their day to congratulate me on my ‘ground-breaking’ paranormal research. They said that I should always believe in myself and not pay attention to anyone who tried to hold me back. They also said that I should be very proud of my work and anyone who said otherwise would ‘wish they’d never been born.’”

“Who do you think could have sent it?”

“No idea.”

Patty sips her tea. “That _is_ interesting.”

Erin finally breaks, laughing quietly. She leans up on tip-toes to kiss Patty’s cheek softly. “Thank you.”

“Whatever for?” Patty asks, still playing along.

Erin chuckles and gives her arm a squeeze. “See you upstairs?”

“Of course,” Patty replies, cheek tingling.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh Patty, you gone and caught some feelings.....
> 
> let me know what you thought?


	4. October

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (anyone else find it absolutely hilarious the chapter 'October' is being published in October? fascinating stuff...)
> 
> I hope the (few) people reading this are still enjoying.

** October **

 

“Snack break?” Erin asks, pushing her notebook aside and looking over to Patty.

“Hell yes,” Patty agrees, glad for some relief.

They’ve been up on the third floor working since they got back from an evening bust a few hours ago. Patty hasn’t checked the clock on her desk, but it must be gone eleven o’clock. Erin’s working on a new theory her and Abby came up with about how ghosts move throughout different environments, and Patty’s collecting information for her ever-growing, and now substantially long, directory of haunted New York buildings. Maybe she was a little naïve going into the project, but she hadn’t expected it to be such exhausting work.

“Then I shall go on a snack-finding mission,” Erin announces. “Any requests?”

“Hmm. Something savoury.”

“Something savoury it is,” Erin says with a lopsided smile and finger guns, because she still is, at times, awkwardness personified.

Patty watches her leave the room fondly. Over the last few months, she feels that they’ve grown immeasurably closer, more best friends than friends. At movie night, Erin sits next to Patty, now. They have inside jokes. More often than not, they team up for busts. They’d made up their own celebratory handshake, which Erin was still trying to master (hand-eye coordination wasn’t her strongest skill, apparently). Patty had been most surprised by their similar tastes in music. When she played her _Tango in the Night_ album one afternoon, she certainly didn’t expect Erin to sing along to _every_ song. 

This isn’t the first late night working they’ve had; on multiple occasions they’ve spent the early hours together on the third floor, just the two of them, Erin working on the new sensor system and Patty researching the historical haunted sites it would be based at. They work well together, in Patty’s opinion. Looking back on those nights, she realised that she wouldn’t have wanted to spend them with anyone else.

She smiles at the memory and clicks to open the file named ‘NY Ghosties’ on her laptop, mentally preparing herself for at least another hour of work.

**Location is not accessible. The file or directory is corrupted and unreadable.**

Patty’s heart crawls up into her throat and stays there.

She clicks ‘OK’ and tries to open the file again.

**Location is not accessible. The file or directory is corrupted and unreadable.**

Her heart thunders. One more time.

**Location is not accessible. The file or directory is –**

Patty’s vision blurs, her palms sweat. Three months of work gone.

Why had she been so careless? Why had she not backed up her files?

What if she lost her job? This, in her eyes, was a sackable offence. Working for over three months with nothing to show for it would have her out of the door quicker than anything. She can imagine the disappointment on her teammates faces. Will they turn on her? Kick her out of their group? What if they get called out to a bust and don’t have the information to hand? They’d be in danger, at risk. What if a member of the public got hurt because of her carelessness? _Killed?_ What if Abby, or Holtzmann or _Erin_ …

“Looks like Abby ate the rest of the potato chips, so we’ve got sandwiches,” Erin says, from somewhere.

Patty can’t pinpoint where the sound came from, can’t move her eyes from the computer screen. A wave of cold rolls up through her stomach to her mouth. She stands abruptly.

“I lost all my work.”

“What?”

“My work. All the haunted buildings. I lost it. The file corrupted.”

Erin appears in her line of vision, placing a hand on her arm. “Patty, it’s okay.”

“No! It’s not okay! I just lost three months of work! How is that okay?!”

She’s vaguely aware of herself shouting, unable to process anything other than complete panic.

All the historical theory behind their new project was gone.

Erin had run countless calculations and simulations, finetuning the processes behind the watch list. Holtzmann had designed and built sensors for them to place around the city. Abby had fully planned and costed the whole endeavour, then pitched it to government officials.

And what had Patty done? Researched a few old buildings and typed it up. Then lost it.

“It’s different for you! You guys are talented and geniuses! You have PhDs and masters degrees and awards and publications! I’ve got nothing! I work at the MTA, for god’s sake. I didn’t even go to college.”

“Patty, please-“

“You just don’t understand. They _need_ you guys. Who else can build a proton shot gun apart from Holtzy? Who else can lead a paranormal research team apart from Abby? Who else can write the mathematical theory behind a whole new science apart from you?

Who can research the most haunted sites in New York city? Anybody with the internet and half a brain, that’s who. I literally had one job – shoot the ghosts with the weapons provided and research a bunch of old buildings. And I couldn’t even do that. You don’t need me here. I can be _replaced._ ”

“Patty!” Erin says sharply, squeezing her arm. “Listen to me, please. You haven’t lost your work. I have all our files backed up.”

“No. Not mine. I didn’t back them up.”

“But we're on the same computer network. If a device is connected to the Wi-Fi, then it's on the same network and all the files get uploaded automatically to a cloud or something.” Erin pulls her gently over to her desk and opens her own laptop. She brings up an online file drive. “What's it called?”

Patty types it in herself to save time, hands trembling. Erin hits search and two documents appear; she opens the first. “Is this it?”

Shakily, Patty scrolls through the document. “Yeah, it’s all here.”

She feels so relieved her head starts spinning, her hands tingling.

“Maybe you should sit down,” Erin suggests, gently guiding her to the floor, which is closer than her chair.

Patty sinks ungracefully to the floor, her arms and legs feeling impossibly weak, leaning back against Erin’s desk. The floor is cold and hard and fixed - she feels a little more secure down here.

Erin crouches to her level, a hand on her shoulder. “Do you need me to get you anything?”

Patty shakes her head briefly, her vision still blurred around the edges. “Can I hold you?”

Erin climbs into her lap without a moments hesitation. Patty takes the extra weight gladly, pulling Erin closer and bringing her knees up to support them both. Erin’s head settles against her shoulder and Patty feels her heartbeat start to slow, her breathing becoming more regular. It’s always been strange to her; how some people like to be held, whereas she prefers to hold other people. She supposes they fit together, her and Erin, in their preference.

 A few tears manage to escape and trail slowly down her cheeks. She sniffs, trying to contain it.

“I don’t mind if you cry.”

Patty lets the tears fall freely. They drip from her chin onto Erin’s t-shirt.

“Do you really believe what you said? That we can… replace you?”

Patty shuts her eyes, brain still going a mile-a-minute despite her body feeling calmer. “Yeah, sometimes.”

“Why would you ever think that?”

“Because. The work I do… you don’t need special training for that. You can drag anyone off the street to do that.”

“You don’t think you’re a valuable member of the team?”

“I’m not sure my contributions match yours.”

“That’s not true. Patty, you saw a ghost at the subway station. Any other person would’ve gone home and forced themselves to forget about it. But you came straight to us. You sought _us_ out. Do you see what I’m trying to say? You didn’t _have_ to do anything, but you did.

You didn’t have to follow Rowan down onto the tracks. You didn’t have to come and talk to us. You didn’t have to pull me out of the way of an express train five minutes after meeting me. You didn’t have to lend us your uncle’s car. You didn’t have to fight Abby possessed by Rowan. You didn’t have to take part in a ghost apocalypse.

You didn’t have to work on your New York ghost profile side-project, but you did and because of that we came up with a brilliant new way to track paranormal activity and act on it in advance.

Before, you said that you don’t know how you got here but you got yourself here, Patty. From the get-go, you were willing to do whatever it took to help us and the rest of the city. Without you, we would’ve been dead before we even started. Don’t _ever_ think you can be replaced,” Erin says firmly, hand squeezing Patty's arm.

“You know, for a scientist, you give a pretty good pep talk.”

Erin huffs out what sounds like a mixture of a laugh and a cry. “Shut up, Patty.”

Patty laughs through her tears. “Never.”

“You said, um, you said something about how we don’t need you. Do we make you feel that way? Do you feel left out?”

“Left out? No. I love all of you and I think you feel the same. Easiest friends I ever made. It’s just… there’s three scientists and one historian. And I know that’s because the science is more important, I get that. But the three of you understand each other’s work and the three of you understand my work but…”

“You don’t understand our work?”

Patty sighs. “Right. If you could just explain what the hell you’re doing every now and then, I’d feel a little more clued in.”

“Of course, Patty. You only had to ask.”

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Patty’s breathing is almost back to normal and her heart’s beating at a steady pace.

“I’m sorry I shouted at you,” she says quietly.

“It’s okay.”

“Not really.”

“Really. I would’ve said and done much worse in your position. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thank you - for helping with the panic and stuff,” Patty says, grateful but not wanting to let go of Erin just yet. She’s warm and her t-shirt is soft and smells of laundry detergent.

“Of course. I know how it feels.”

“Panic attacks?”

Erin cuddles closer into her shoulder. “Yep.”

“It started because of the ghost?”

Erin shakes her head. “When the kids at school found out. And I thought I had problems before. Ghosts were the least of my worries after that.”

“They called you names,” Patty remembers.

“They did lots of things,” Erin says vaguely. “I used to get myself a Friday detention, so they’d be less likely to wait around and follow me home.”

Patty doesn’t press for details. She’s not sure she wants to hear them. It’s one thing imagining Erin getting beat up in a school hallway and another to know it actually happened. “I’m so sorry, Erin.”

Being haunted by a ghost, bullied at school and having shit parents was a heavy combination. Sometimes Patty forgot how strong a person Erin must be to get through something like that.

“It’s okay. I had Abby.”

“I’m glad for that.”

Out of the blue, Erin’s stomach rumbles loudly. She buries her face in Patty’s shoulder out of embarrassment, and they both laugh.

The atmosphere around them shifts to a lighter one, for which Patty is relieved.

“Nice way to ruin the moment,” she mutters into Erin’s hair, not at all serious.

“I’m sorry,” Erin groans.

“You’re lucky I like you.”

Erin pulls back from the embrace to look at Patty. “How are you feeling now?”

“Still a little amped up,” Patty admits. Her body might be calm, but her brain certainly isn’t. “Wanna watch a documentary with me?”

“I would love that.”

Erin moves to stand, but Patty reaches for her wrist to hold her there. “Wait. Thank you. For everything.”

Erin gets that look in her eyes then, the one that Patty can’t decipher, its intensity and complexity beyond her current understanding. Something tugs at her chest when Erin smiles at her, with her mouth turning up at the edges, but mostly with her eyes.

“Anything for you.”

 

Patty settles into the comfort of the couch and pulls her purple fluffy blanket around her shoulders. It’s not cold enough to justify a blanket, but for the sake of comfort, she’s allowed herself to indulge. She readjusts the position of her laptop for optimum viewing of the video; a nature documentary about the ocean. These are the most calming to her, the ocean is quiet and still and vast, an almost alien landscape to fall in to.

Erin finishes packing her notepads away and grabs the snacks they’d all but forgotten.

Patty beams and pats the space next to her. “Get over here, ghost girl.”

The couch dips as Erin sits down next to her with her legs tucked up underneath her, close enough that their arms touch. Patty tries not to pay too much attention to the contact, they're friends after all. Erin reaches for a section of the blanket to cover herself with. She pauses, staring at the material in her hand and then, of all the things to do next, rubs it against her cheek.

“It's _so_ soft,” Erin comments, awed.

“Uh, yeah.”

“Is this from heaven?” Erin asks, deadly serious.

 _Are you?_ Patty wonders in a whispering voice at the back of her mind. “I don’t think so.”

“I like it,” Erin says decisively, as though that wasn’t already obvious. She tucks the blanket around her shoulders and settles into a comfortable position. “Ready.”

Patty presses play and tries to relax, to let go of the stress and panic that had recently overwhelmed her. She feels a spike of nerves hit but assures herself that it’s just because she wants Erin to like one of her favourite documentaries, nothing more.

Erin is, in her opinion, the best person on the team to watch things with. Holtzmann never stops moving or talking or asking the most ridiculous questions or pointing at random people in the film and saying, ‘That's you.’ Abby, while better than Holtzmann, still made running commentaries on whatever they were watching, or fell asleep within the first ten minutes. Erin seems to respect the idea that films shouldn’t be talked through, and for the most part stays quiet, only stopping to ask relevant questions.

The familiar sound of the narrator's voice fills her ears, then Erin’s, who shifts on the couch and rests her head on Patty’s shoulder, curling into her side.

It’s entirely unexpected and shocking and new and suddenly it just hits her; She likes Erin. Romantically.

Patty feels hot and cold all over. Hot because it’s exciting to like someone, to want to be with them, to think about the possibilities of what they could be together. Cold because she’s terrified.

Patty falls in love far too easily and far too quickly. That’s recipe for disaster enough. But falling for a colleague? How is she supposed to get over this without compromising the team? How had she not seen this coming? Crushes on co-workers didn’t develop overnight. When did her feelings cross that boundary? There _had_ been a boundary. They’d been friends first, then best friends… and then Patty had fallen into the trap of crushing hard on her best friend. How had that happened?

Or, how could it _not_ have happened? Erin is smart and ambitious and (awkwardly) funny and she’s kind and attractive. A crush on someone like that is almost inevitable.

But it’s just a crush. She can get over it. Definitely.

“Is this comfortable?” Erin rips her out of her panicked thoughts.

“What? Oh. Yeah. It’s cool,” Patty manages, eyes fixed on the screen.

She tries to concentrate on the video, the voices, the coral reefs, anything, but it’s so difficult when Erin is so close. She's warm, pressed up against her side, and Patty can feel her breathe in and out, can smell the scent of apple shampoo. She starts to wonder what it would be like to be this close to Erin all the time, to sit with her like this, to turn and press a kiss to the top of her head...

Only another forty-seven minutes to go.

For the most part, Erin stays quiet and Patty is grateful because she’s not sure she's capable of a coherent reply in her current situation. She's torn between wanting the documentary to be over, so she can escape, and never wanting it to end.

The documentary finishes. The laptop screen fades to black and for a minute Patty just sits there, looking at the two of them in the reflection. Erin prods her arm and sits up. Patty goes cold at the loss of contact.

“Feeling better now?”

Patty grimaces at the irony. “Oh, yeah. Much better.”

“Thanks for letting me watch with you.”

“That’s okay. Don’t tell the others, but you're my favourite person to watch things with,” Patty manages, and turns to face Erin with a forced smile.

“You’re my favourite person to watch things with, too,” Erin says, and she’s still _so_ close, and she doesn’t appear to be moving away either. Patty can count her eyelashes.

“You think the other guys left yet?”

Erin considers this and still doesn’t move away, their faces centimeters apart. “Probably. Abby likes to go out on Friday nights. I expect she dragged Holtz out with her.”

“If that’s the case, I’m offended they didn’t ask us to join,” Patty jokes.

Erin shrugs. “I’d rather be here with you.”

Patty wants to kiss her. It would be so easy. All she’d have to do is lean in, tilt her head slightly to the left and press her lips against Erin’s.

The fact that it would be so easy is what stops her.

Her heart tells her that kissing Erin for a few brief moments would be worth it. The fallout of what followed would be worth it to have Erin even closer, to hold a hand to her cheek and guide their lips together for a few short, sweet seconds.

Her heart whispers it would be worth it. Her head screams that it would not.

Visions of Erin pulling away, hurt and confused, of Erin shouting at her for destroying their friendship, of Abby and Holtzmann yelling at her for ruining the team, all swim across her mind at once.

Patty sits up straighter, putting distance between them. “Home time?”

“Home time,” Erin echoes. Her expression is hard to read.

She double checks the containment units and Patty switches off all the lights on her way down, meeting Erin outside the firehouse entrance.

“I’ll see you on Monday, then.”

“Yep,” Patty says coolly.

Erin takes a step forward and hugs her tightly, arms wrapped around Patty’s waist. She lingers, then pulls away.

“Night, Patty.”

“Night,” Patty says, and they go in opposite directions.

Patty watches her walk away for longer than she probably should. It’s just a crush, after all.

 

* * *

 

“You _did_ fill in that Risk Assessment, didn’t you Holtzy?”

“A-yup,” Holtzmann confirms.

Patty’s not wholly convinced, neither is Erin who stands next to her, wringing her hands nervously.

It’s a few days before Halloween and earlier in the month Holtzmann had suggested that they invite some local school children to HQ as a spooky treat. Abby and Erin had agreed immediately, excited by the idea of getting more young minds into science. Patty, increasingly the voice of caution these days, had pointed out the dangers of children and firearms designed to blast the paranormal, not to mention the _actual_ paranormal entities present within the building. Holtzmann, who hadn’t done a single piece of paperwork since they started, had been assigned the lengthy task of filling out health and safety checks.

“Are you sure this is a good idea? What if one of them gets hurt?” Erin asks, to nobody in particular.

“Erin, relax!” Abby insists. “It’ll be fine.”

“Of course it will,” Patty joins in, trying to reassure Erin and herself.

“I hid all the grenades,” Holtzmann informs them. “Triple checked the containment units.”

A loud knock at the door buys their attention.

“They’re here!” Abby shrieks and shoots off to let their guests in.

Patty claps Erin on the shoulder. “It’s gonna be fine. Trust me.”

“I do,” Erin says, so quietly Patty almost doesn’t hear it.

She’s been trying hard to get over this… crush. That’s all it is. A crush, nothing more. She just has to keep reminding herself that Erin is her friend, her best friend, and her colleague. Erin doesn’t feel the same way, she’s sure of that. She thinks back to when Erin used to fawn over Kevin, the way her eyes used to follow him move, the way she’d jumble her words whenever he spoke to her. Erin’s never like that with her.

She’ll just have to wait it out, just act normal around Erin and everything will be fine. Her feelings will fade. It’s just a crush.

An explosion of noise assaults her ears as over a dozen screaming children run into the reception area of the ground floor. Abby runs after them, already more excited than she probably should be. At least half of the girls have their own custom-made Ghostbuster uniforms, a sight that makes Patty’s heart soar.

The children quickly assemble into a small group, a couple of parents stood behind them, gazing up at the four of them in admiration.

“Who wants to see the ghosts?” Holtzmann roars, jumping up and down on a chair.

The children scream excitedly and Patty grins. Those risk assessments were definitely _not_ filled in by Holtzmann, most likely by the engineer’s latest squeeze, one Jennifer Lynch.

“From a safe distance,” Erin says, but it falls on deaf ears.

Abby fist pumps the air. “Who wants to play with the ghost slime?”

The children scream again, significantly louder this time.

Of course, they weren’t letting them play with actual ghost slime – they were yet to determine the chemical composition of the stuff. Instead, Abby had created a safe synthetic version of slime of various colours for the kids to get stuck into.

They’d organised a small tour of headquarters and set up a few activities, including Build Your Own Ghost Trap (Holtzmann), Heat Sensitive Colour Changing Slime (Abby), New York’s Spookiest Ghost Stories (Patty) and Explore the Ecto-1 (Erin). Patty had suggested they split the group up into smaller ones and rotate them at each activity to make supervision easier. They’d decided to wear their uniforms tonight, a costume of sorts so that the kids could identify with them – Patty never thought they’d be wearing their own home-made versions.

“Who wants to sit in the Ecto?” Erin joins in. She laughs as a loud cheer goes up and Patty goes a little mushy on the inside.

She wants to yell ‘Who wants to listen to some ghost stories?’ but isn’t sure that will top sitting in the car. 

“Who’s ready for a tour of HQ?” She asks instead, getting ready to show the kids around.

Excited muttering breaks out in the group as Abby leads them over to their main research station. One girl, Patty notices, hangs back from the group, not moving from her parents’ side. Erin gravitates towards them, begins a conversation and before Patty can see what happens she’s dragged away by a gleeful Holtzmann.

“Let’s go, Pattycakes! Tour time!”

 

The tour is surprisingly not disastrous. Patty had been expecting screaming and injuries and explosions. There’s none of that. Holtzmann refrains from any live demonstrations. Even Abby manages to keep a lid on her excitement, acting as the tour leader whilst Patty stands to the back, pointing out things the kids might have missed and also to keep an eye out for Erin.

It’s been over thirty minutes and she hasn’t appeared.

Patty shrugs when Abby asks where she is. Patty goes to look for her – she’s just worried, that’s all. What if something’s gone wrong? She leaves the group to check back downstairs. The ground floor is empty. She double checks the second floor, where the tour is ongoing. No sign of Erin. Patty frowns. The third floor? There wasn’t much to see up there.

She sighs and makes her way up another flight of stairs, hovering outside the doorway when she hears voices.

“Sometimes it’s okay to feel alone. I used to feel like that a lot when I was your age. I thought I would always feel that way, but it gets better, believe me. Me and Abby have been friends forever now – we used to go ghost hunting after school. Now I have Patty and Holtzmann, too. Holtz is the small one and Patty is the tall one.”

Patty smiles, still hiding in the shadows. ~~~~

“Holtzmann is our engineer, she makes all the gadgets and upgrades for our proton packs. She fools around a lot, one time she set me on fire, but she’s really cool. Well, she thinks she is, anyway.

Patty is our historian, she researches lots of haunted places in the city, so we’re prepared for busts. She’s book-smart and people-smart, she sees things none of us see. Sometimes, people say that we don’t need Patty on the team because she’s not a scientist, but that’s wrong. The truth is, if one of the scientists left, maybe the Ghostbusters would be okay. But if Patty left… I – _we_ would fall apart; the team wouldn’t work without her. She’s my favourite but you can’t tell the others.”

A small lump forms in Patty’s throat. Sometimes she does doubt her own abilities and her contributions, sometimes she lets her insecurities take over. But they _need_ her. She sees that now. It’s not a competition of who’s got the highest IQ, or the most awards or who went to an Ivy League school. It’s about what they can teach each other.

Is Patty ever going to understand the most complex aspects of particle physics? Probably not. Erin can teach her the fundamentals and Abby can show her how that translates into their equipment, but Patty’s never going to be an expert. It’s just not her thing.

Are Erin and Abby and Holtzmann ever going to know the history of New York from 1524 through the French and Indian war to the present day? Probably not. Patty can tell them stories and send them videos to watch, but they’re never going to remember it all, not like she does. That’s _her_ thing.

“Anyway, we all fit together like a family. I think maybe that’s what you need to do, find your own family of friends – or wait for them to find you, because they will. You just need to have a little patience and hope, and everything will be okay.

In the meantime, you can send me any questions you have about science or anything, really. Hang on, I’ll get my…” Erin trails off and Patty hears movement, a desk drawer opening. “This is my business card. Abby made them for us. That’s me – Dr Erin Gilbert. That’s my e-mail address and that’s the emergency phone number you call if you see a ghost. Hopefully you won’t need that one, though.”

There’s a brief period of silence, like Erin’s not sure what to say next.

“I like your uniform. Did you make it yourself?... You and your Dad made it. That’s cool. You ever dressed up for Halloween before…? No. Oh, well, that’s okay. You’ve got loads more years to do that. When I was your age, I used to dress up as a ghost. Now I’m dressed up as a Ghost _buster_. Kind of silly, right? But you’re already a Ghostbuster, so you’re way ahead of me.

What’s your favourite subject at school...? I like math, too… Exactly! There’s always a correct answer, that’s the best part. You’re either wrong or right, no grey areas… and you like English? For the books... and because it’s quiet. Patty loves to read, too. She has a big bookshelf over there, mostly non-fiction and history. Maybe I could get her to recommend some books to you.”  

Patty hears Abby and Holtzmann finishing up the tour a floor below her and decides to intervene. She takes a few steps and knocks on the door frame, the room coming into view. The sight warms Patty’s heart.

Erin’s lying on the floor, propped up by her elbows, opposite a dark-haired girl, taking turns to colour in something drawn on a piece of paper. A thought enters her mind and refuses to leave; Patty realises this is what it would look like if Erin had kids of her own - talking to them, colouring in with them, caring for them in a way she’d never experienced herself.

Upon her knocking, Erin looks up and they make eye-contact and suddenly Patty’s in the picture, too, with Erin and the children in the room they decorated together.

“Hey, Patty. What’s up?”

Patty aggressively shoves her thoughts aside. “Tour finished. We’re gonna make a start on activities now, if you’re ready?”

Erin looks to the girl, who nods. “I think so.”

“Hi, I’m Patty,” she introduces herself to the girl. “What’s your name?”

The girl looks to Erin, then back to Patty. O – L – I – V – I – A, she signs with her hands.

Patty melts. “Olivia, I like your costume. Did you make it?” She asks, like she hasn’t just listened to Erin talking.

_Me and my Dad made it._

“It’s so accurate! You look like you’re on the team!”

Olivia blushes. _Maybe._

“Whatcha drawing? Can I see?”

Olivia nods and Patty walks over, crouching to the floor. It’s the four of them, which Erin must have drawn the outline of, in their ghostbusting uniforms holding their proton packs. Erin’s colouring in herself while Olivia colours in Abby.

“Nice! You gave Abby blue hair, maybe we can convince her to dye it again.”

“I’m definitely not dyeing mine.”

“Okay, Garfield,” Patty teases.

Olivia looks between them, puzzled.

“I accidentally dyed my hair bright orange like Garfield the cat,” Erin explains. “But it’s back to normal, now.”

_Who’s Garfield?_

Patty ages ten years in approximately two seconds. “Man, okay. They don’t have Garfield cartoons anymore. I feel old.”

“Me too,” Erin laughs. “Olivia, which activity would you like to do first? We have Build a Ghost Trap, sit in the Ecto-1, Listen to Ghost Stories or Colour Changing Slime.”

 

Olivia opts for New York’s Spookiest Ghost Stories, probably because it’ll be the quietest activity, but Patty is pleased all the same. Erin leaves to take charge of the Ecto-1 activity and Patty rounds up a small group of kids to listen to her stories.

It goes well, in Patty’s opinion. She expected them to be running around the place, shouting and screaming, but they sit in silence, hanging on her every word.

“Then we tried to crowd-surf to the ghost, but it didn’t go so well. You know why? The crowd didn’t catch me! Rude, right? Anyway, then I stood up and the ghost sat on me. It _sat on me_. No ghost is sitting on Patty! Then the other girls started blasting it with their proton streams – pow! pow! pow! We wrestled with it and it finally went in the Ghost Trap – just like the one you made today. We caught a ghost!” Patty exclaims, telling the last story to her final group. “It escaped again not long after, but who cares.”

It hadn’t so much escaped, more set free by a certain Erin Gilbert, then crashed an elderly man through a window. Patty glossed over that minor detail.

“And that’s how we caught the first ghost! My favourite story so I saved it till last. Hope you enjoyed Ghost Stories with Patty.”

They don’t look overly terrified, which Patty is glad about, seeing as that wasn’t her main goal.

“Hey!” Erin says, appearing in the doorway with a small group of kids around her knees. “I just finished my last activity. Want to head back over to the slime room?”

Gasps and whispers indicate that both groups would very much like to return to the slime room. They head to the first floor, following the sounds of shrieking and laughter.

The sight that greets them is nothing short of what Patty expected. Abby and Holtzmann’s groups have merged together and engaged in a slime fight, led by the two scientists.

Erin groans as their own groups run to join in. “This is gonna take so long to clean up.”

Patty scoffs. “Baby, we ain’t clearing this up. _They_ ,” she points to a slimy green Holtzmann and slimy red Abby, “are clearing this up.”

“They just don’t know it yet.”

“So, Olivia…” Patty starts, hoping Erin will fill in the blanks.

“Doesn’t talk. She’s mute, I think. Her parents didn’t explicitly say so, but that’s what I gathered.” Erin links their arms together as they stand in the doorway, watching chaos unfold. “I didn’t know you knew sign language.”

“I didn’t know _you_ knew it, either. What you did with Olivia... that was really special.”

“What do you mean?”

“Some of the things you said to her. Finding your own family and friends. That was really nice.”

“I wasn’t aware you were listening in,” Erin says, only half-teasing.

Patty mentally kicks herself. She’d completely forgotten about the eavesdropping. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. I listened in to some of your ghost stories.”

“Guess we're even, then.”

Erin tilts her head up to look at her. “Do you ever wonder how you got so lucky? All of this... sometimes I feel like it’s all a dream.”

“All the damn time,” Patty confirms.

“It's real, though. Abby and Holtz and me and you. It’s just sometimes I’m afraid. Afraid that even now, I’ll lose everything, all of you.”

“I’m not going anywhere. That’s a Patty Promise.”

Erin smiles and finally drops her gaze. “A Patty Promise,” she echoes.

“Hey, I mean it. Patty Promises are no joke. It’s me and you forever, Gilbert. No take-backs, not on my side.”

“Nor mine,” Erin agrees. “Nor mine.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let the author (me!) know your thoughts on this chapter... 
> 
> the next one is super eventful


	5. November - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> split into 2 parts because why the f not
> 
> enjoy, lads!

** November **

Patty pushes the firehouse door open, steps into the warmth and sighs. 

It’s way too early for this.

She’d been rudely awakened at five o’clock this morning by the person in the apartment above stomping around and yelling obscenities. That had continued for twenty minutes and she knew she wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep.

So here she is, ready for work at 6:14am with the sky still firmly set in night mode.

She leans back against the door, rubs her eyes and blinks. The lights are already on. She can smell coffee and toast and the kitchen radio is on.

Erin.

Patty’s heart soars and drops simultaneously. More alone time with the person she’s desperately trying not to crush on? Perfect.

She hangs up her winter coat and walks from the hallway to the kitchen and living area. Erin’s sat on the couch, with a cup of coffee on the table and a blanket pulled around her shoulders. It's Patty's blanket, the purple fluffy one they used when watching the documentary, which means Erin trekked all the way up to the third floor to get it and bring it back down.

Patty's stomach does an odd flip. “Hi. Is that my blanket?”

“Hi, Patty.” Erin says. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she’s wearing her MIT sweatshirt and leggings. "Um, yeah, is that okay? I just really like it and it smells of you, so..." 

"That's okay. Just asking," Patty says, managing a smile. Is Erin actually trying to kill her?

Erin holds the blanket open, a dangerous invitation. “Want to join?”

Patty hesitates, fiddling with her keys. Erin wants to sit with her, nothing more. This is a normal, completely platonic interaction. Treating it as anything else would reinforce her mindset of having a crush on Erin. That’s a mindset she needs to get out of, quickly.

“Sure,” she decides and sits cross-legged on the couch, mirroring Erin’s position.

Erin wraps the blanket around them both, like a cocoon. Their hands brush together and she frowns.

“Your hands are cold,” she says and takes Patty’s cold hands in her warm ones.

“Thanks,” Patty breathes, pulse racing. “Do you always get here this early?”

Erin shakes her head. “Just today. Couldn’t sleep.”

“Something wrong?”

“Just emotional and feeling sad,” Erin shrugs. “Thinking about things.”

“That's okay. Feeling sad, I mean. It’s normal. If we didn’t feel sad then we wouldn’t feel happy, either. And if we didn’t feel angry we wouldn’t feel calm.”

“You like when there are opposites.”

Patty nods, thoughtful. “Yes. It makes everything balanced, gives a sense of order. Sun and moon, night and day, happy and sad, love and hate, rain and shine.”

“I’m rain and you’re shine,” Erin says with a wry smile.

“Why's that?”

“You have a very positive attitude. I tend to wallow in self-pity.”

Patty chuckles. “Baby, we all do that.”

“How are you so positive?”

“I woke up early this morning because my neighbour was noisy. Then I thought ‘I woke up this morning. Some people didn’t.’ The deli didn’t have my favourite sandwich today? At least I can afford to buy food, I’ll try a new sandwich. I had a bad day at work? At least I have a job to go to. Someone has a cooler outfit than me? I’m lucky enough to have clothes. I’m feeling sad? I can call my friend Erin to cheer me up. My apartment is small? I have a place to live.”

“And that works?”

“Not all the time,” Patty admits, “but it helps. Shit happens, right? I’ve gone through rough patches. I just try to focus on the positives. It’s difficult, I know.”

Erin looks at her with admiration. “You’re so wise, Patty.”

“Nah, I talk a lot of shit.”

“You really don’t.”

Patty misses a beat, unsure of what to say next. Erin lets go of her now warm hands and takes a sip of coffee. Patty feels tension leave her shoulders.

“You said you’re feeling sad. What’re you thinking about?”

“Childhood, my parents, Abby.” She forces a smile. “The usual.”

“Tell me about them,” Patty requests. “Your parents.”

Erin looks visibly conflicted. “I love them. And they love me, I think. But they’re very cold people. Standoffish. They didn’t touch me very often. I know that sounds strange, but I can remember every single time my mom has hugged me in my whole life. As a kid, I must’ve gone days without anyone touching me. There was an intellectual connection, my dad would buy me science books and my mom would bake with me, but they were physically and emotionally detached.

I remember once, when I was quite young, I got ill and had to stay in bed. My mom only worked part-time, so she was able to take care of me. I remember she came up to my room with a tray of food and medicine, then she got into my bed and held me. She rubbed my back and kissed my forehead and told me I would feel better soon. I forced myself to stay awake, so I would remember her doing it and how happy I felt that she was being so affectionate. It was the first and last time she ever did that.

I know my flaws; I’m anxious and clingy and need lots of validation and attention. But sometimes I wonder if any of that is down to who I am, or if it’s all because of what I experienced.”

The words swim back and forth in Patty’s mind. Erin doesn’t talk about her parents and she thought that was because of the ghost, but there’s a whole undercurrent of detachment and loneliness that Erin seems to be drowning in.

At first, she thought Erin was reserved and almost distant. She thinks back to their girly sleepover in August, when she’d kissed Erin’s forehead and she stiffened up. ‘ _I wasn’t expecting it, but I liked it.’_ She remembers how she was surprised when Erin rested her head on her shoulder at Holtzmann’s birthday picnic, how she thought that Erin wasn’t a ‘touchy’ person, not like Holtz and Abby. Now she knows that’s not the case; Erin doesn’t avoid physical affection, she just doesn’t know what to do with it. She craves it, openly.

Patty sighs. “The whole nature-nurture argument. Mental attitudes depend a lot on how you’re brought up, I think. Parents can massively influence your whole life.”

Erin nods, fiddling with the blanket. “I didn’t have any siblings and until I met Abby, all my friends were imaginary. My parents used to pay kids in my neighbourhood to hang out with me over summer break.”

Patty’s eyes narrow. God forbid she ever meet Erin’s parents. She’d rip them a new one. She’s in half a mind to ring them up right now and tell them what’s what.

“When did you find out?”

“After that summer, Abby joined my school. Some of the kids asked her how much my parents were paying her. She asked me what the hell was going on. I connected the dots from there. I remember how stupid I felt. One summer all the kids on my street wanted to be my friend and hang out everyday? I’d never even questioned it.

Abby was smart though. The first time she came to my house we pretended it was for a school project, not because we were already friends. My mom gave her five bucks just to stay for dinner. For sleepovers she got ten. We’d spend the money on cinema tickets and comics and ghost stuff. We kept it up for about a year until Abby’s mom found out and flipped her shit. It was fun though, knowing we’d got one over on them.”

“That is gold,” Patty laughs. “Only Abby would think of doing something like that. Did your parents ever find out?”

“They never said anything, that would mean admitting to what they did, but I think they realised.”

“Man, that's wild,” Patty says, still smiling. “What a shitty thing to do to your kid.”

Erin shrugs, grinning. “Worked out well in the end. I was getting paid by my own parents to hang out with my best friend.”

“Abby’s a great friend,” Patty says. She wonders what would’ve happened if the two of them had never met.

“She is. The best. What about you, did you have a lot of friends growing up?”

Patty stops smiling. “My brother, Michael. He was my best friend.”

“I never hear you talk about him, much.”

“He’s passed.”

Erin’s face falls. “Oh. Oh, Patty, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to – I thought, well, never mind. I’m sorry. We don’t have to talk about it. Unless you want to.”

“I want to,” Patty says thickly. She hasn’t spoken about him for so, so long.

“What was he like?” Erin asks, a gentle encouragement.  

“Michael was born in ’67, so three years older than me. He was very kind and generous. He always had time for anybody, especially me. I know some older brothers can be nasty, but he wasn’t like that. We hung out together, took study breaks together, sang along to the radio in his car together. He was my favourite person and I was his, I think.

He was very smart, book smart. Could take a test on anything and get a 90. He breezed through high school and I was the opposite. I’d study for hours and get a C minus or a D. Can’t take a damn test without freaking out, that’s my problem.

Anyway, he got accepted into Chicago to major in Economics. Wanted to go to law school at Columbia. First year of college he was fine. On the phone, he seemed happy, he went out with friends, joined a sports team – the typical student life.

Second year, things got bad for him. He called more, saying he felt homesick, which I thought was odd, because he hadn’t felt like that the first year. He fell behind with his work. His grades took a massive hit. He seemed to be ill constantly. He wasn’t performing well for his football team. I’m not sure there was one specific thing, everything just got on top of him so quickly.

A week before his finals he called to make plans for when he’d be coming home for winter break. He sounded happier, I thought. Two days after that he took his own life.”

Erin lets silence envelope them. Patty’s eyes fill with tears and spill down her cheeks.

 

Time was no healer.

After thirty years, the same crushing feelings of shock, grief and anger still keep her awake at night. The vacant look in her mother’s eyes, the long hours her father spent crying in the garden shed, the loneliness she still felt. The place in her heart that Michael once held was void, a vacuum she could never fill. The ache has dulled over the years, but is ever-present in her life, a reality she’d never be able to escape.

Michael was everything to her. A best friend, a leader, a shoulder to cry on, someone to share her secrets with. He was always there, supporting her, encouraging her to achieve her dreams. Michael was a constant in her life, until he wasn’t. When he died, all hopes of achieving anything seemed to die with him. Patty wished he could see her now. She thought, somehow, that he could.

 

“Patty, I’m so sorry. I can’t even begin to imagine how you feel.” Erin reaches out to cup Patty’s cheek, bringing her back to reality by brushing away tears with her thumb. “I’m so sorry. How old were you?”

“Seventeen. Everything went downhill from there. I couldn’t deal with it. I dropped out of high school. Spent a year at home just doing nothing. I felt lost. I’ve got a big family – cousins and uncles and aunts – but that Christmas was the loneliest I’ve ever felt. We don’t talk about it. My family don’t talk about what happened.”

“Why?”

“There’s a lot of stigma attached to mental illness and suicide in my community. People just don’t speak up about it, not now and especially not back then. Michael didn’t kill himself, he _died_. That’s what my dad told me to say and I did for so long. Like I was ashamed of him. I’m not and I _never_ was.

Successful young black men in good colleges with good grades and good friends don’t kill themselves. They _get_ killed by police officers and gangs and institutional bias. That’s what my dad still doesn’t understand. Michael had everything. What did he have to kill himself over? He kept looking for some secret reason, a bad break-up, a nasty football coach, alcohol, drugs.

We almost came to blows over it. I said maybe there wasn’t a reason, maybe Michael was just _sad_. My dad can’t see that. For him, it’s bad enough having a son that commit suicide, but for there not to be an obvious reason why? He can’t process it. Neither can my mom.

I don’t hold it against them – if I was in their shoes, would I feel the same way? Probably. But as parents they could’ve handled it better. Trying to get over the death of your brother is extremely difficult. But when your family keeps denying the circumstances of how he died? Worse.

As a kid, I was the quieter sibling, always reading my books or drawing pictures. Michael was loud, always cracking jokes and telling stories and singing stupid songs. After he died, our house was silent. It was suffocating. I altered my personality to fill the gap he’d left behind; the joker of the pack, the loud person of the family. I know I’m too loud sometimes and I say silly things. But it’s a coping mechanism. An unhealthy one, I know – acting like my dead brother. But I had to do it, or… or-”

When she can’t say anything else, Erin leans in and hugs her tight, the blanket a protective barrier of warmth. Patty lets herself be held, lets herself be comforted, lets herself cry. She’s denied herself that basic right for so long. After a few minutes Erin pulls back and wipes away more tears.

Patty sniffs, trying to pull herself together. “I miss him. I miss him so much. I think about all the things we missed out on together. Graduations, weddings, birthday parties, nieces and nephews. Since he died, all our new family photos seem empty. Like somebody photoshopped him out of them.”

“Do you have a picture of him?”

Patty nods and reaches for her phone, bringing up a picture taken at her thirteenth birthday. She’s standing on a skateboard with a helmet on, grinning, one hand fist-pumping the air and Michael holding the other. She passes her phone to Erin.

“Your favourite birthday,” she says, smiling.

“You remembered?”

“Of course. I remember everything you tell me.” Erin studies the picture, zooming in. “You’re both so tall, even then.”

“A result of my mom’s cooking and great Tolan genes.”

Erin smiles and hands the phone back. “Do you focus on the positives, with Michael?”

“Absolutely. My older brother commit suicide aged twenty. It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened in my whole life. But I had the privilege of being his sister and best friend for seventeen years. I had the privilege of knowing him. He’s not here anymore, but I have pictures and videos and memories of him. It’s not the same. But it’s enough.”

Erin nods, eyes watering. “Thank you for telling me about him. I feel very honored that you shared that with me.”

“Thank you for listening. Sometimes I forget I can talk about him. I should do it more.”

“Maybe if you talked about him with us, it might help. I would listen. I’m always here, if you need me,” Erin says, and she gives Patty that look again, the one that makes her heart leap and her stomach flutter.

The front door opens and closes, and Patty hears footsteps towards them. She blinks rapidly, battling tears.

“Erin, I got your texts and the three missed calls. Seriously? Three? At six am? Do you think I’m Wonder Woman – oh, hi, Patty,” Abby says, demeanor hastily changing from annoyed-but-concerned friend to what-the-hell-have-I-walked-in-to.

“Hey, Abby,” Patty says quietly.

Abby looks worriedly to Erin. “Is everything okay? Am I interrupting something?”

“No, no I think we’re good. Just emotional,” Patty says, voice wobbling. She wipes her eyes and sniffs hard. “Three missed calls?”

Abby rolls her eyes, feigning exasperation. “Erin gets PMS and thinks the world is ending.”

“Technically, the world did almost end when I got my period in July.”

Abby raises an eyebrow and passes her phone to Patty, giving her a comforting rub on the shoulder. “Read the messages and see for yourself.”

_Abby are you awake?_

_I’m at the firehouse. Can you come? Not feeling so good._

_And can you bring cookies?_

_Abby???_

_I heard the door open. Maybe it’s a murderer. RIP._

Patty smiles and hands the phone back. “A little dramatic.”

Erin pouts. “Did you bring- “

“ _Yes!_ ” Abby interrupts. She tosses Erin a paper bag and disappears into the kitchen. “Nice to see you haven’t been tragically murdered.”

Erin snickers. “Patty’s been taking care of me. I’ve been taking care of her.”

“Mutual care-taking,” Patty says, accepting a white chocolate cookie from Erin.

“We’ve been bonding over traumatic childhoods and awful parents,” Erin says bluntly. “Well, my awful parents. Patty’s parents seem nice.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Abby says from the kitchen. She comes in with a tray of three hot chocolates, complete with cream and marshmallows. “Are you feeling okay, Patty?”

“I am now. Thank you,” Patty says, gratefully taking a hot chocolate.

Erin does the same. “I was telling Patty about the time you bled my parents dry for a whole year pretending to be my pretend friend.”

Abby gasps and sets the tray down, perching on the arm of the couch behind Patty. She pulls the blanket up higher around Patty’s shoulders and rubs her back soothingly. “Oh my god! I’d forgotten all about that! Your mom hated me, but she didn’t dare say anything. I can’t believe I did it, but we had so much fun. We played it very well.”

Erin looks to Patty. “One day I came home and said I wasn’t sure Abby liked me anymore and my mom panicked and invited her for a sleep over the next day, even though it was a school night.”

Patty grins. “That is fucked up. I love it.”

“I love you guys,” Erin says quietly, sipping her hot chocolate. A dab of cream stays on the tip of her nose.

“Aww. I love the both of you,” Abby says, leaning across to wipe away the cream with her thumb. “And Holtzy, of course. She’s almost happy with the sensor prototypes, so we should be able to trial the whole system soon. I’m thinking end of December.”

“Sweet. I can’t wait to see it all come together,” Patty says. “And I love you guys, too.”

“We’re so cute,” Erin whispers.

Abby laughs and ruffles her hair affectionately. Patty smiles at their interaction and takes another sip of her drink, wondering how the hell she got so lucky with friends like this. Everything is perfect, right now.

Her crush on Erin _will_ fade. It has to. She’s not going to let herself mess this up.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Ready to go, kids?” Abby yells up the stairs from the ground floor.

Of course, she’d been ready first. Abby had gotten changed in the same bedroom as Patty, while Erin and Holtzmann share the other. Abby had thrown on a clean pair of black dress pants and a pale blue shirt - her last-minute approach was something Patty admired but had no desire to replicate.

She’d taken her time choosing her outfit for the event they’re attending tonight; a political gala hosted by Mayor Bradley to help secure his reappointment. Their invite was only for show, he was expecting them to be there. Patty’s not sure she likes being used as a political tool, but if all she has to do is dress up, eat canapes, make use of the bar and smile every so often, it couldn’t be too bad, right? And besides, the other girls would be there. She hopes they just stick together for the evening before they crash at Abby’s place for the night.

Patty fastens the last button on her white blouse, readjusts her black pencil skirt and pulls on her red blazer. She looks smart enough not to be underdressed, but not fancy enough to draw attention. An outfit that will blend in with everyone else. She grabs her purse, slips on a pair of red heels and heads downstairs.

Abby wolf whistles. “Very nice! Dressing to impress someone?”

“I am!” Holtzmann interrupts, strutting over to them. She’s wearing a burgundy suit with a white shirt and black bowtie. “Gotta dress up nice for my gal.”

Abby raises an eyebrow. “And what will Miss Lynch be wearing?”

Holtzmann shrugs. “Something knock-out, I bet. Patty, you’re looking a million bucks tonight.”

“Thanks, Holtzy. Not too shabby yourself.”

“Erin’s taking her time,” Abby says, checking her watch.

“I’m coming!” Erin calls.

Holtzmann giggles. Patty flicks her on the arm.

Erin walks in wearing a navy-blue dress that ends just below the knee, is sleeveless and has lace covering the bottom half. Her hair is half-up half-down, lips a darker red than usual.

Patty finds her eyes drawn there and wills herself not to react, to act normal. What would a friend say?

“Whoa! Looking good, Erin!” Abby exclaims, fond of hyping up her friends.

“Yeah, looking good,” Patty echoes.

Erin smiles, fidgeting with her purse. “Thanks, guys. You all look really nice.”

“You bet! We’re gonna be the belles of the ball,” Holtzmann says, adjusting her bowtie.

Abby takes a step towards Patty. “How tall _are_ you, Patty?”

“Six foot. Without the heels.”

“Mmph. Have my babies,” Holtzmann begs.

Abby chokes on her laughter. "Holtzy!"

“Inappropriate,” Erin says quietly.

“But just imagine it! Our combined brain power, the mixing of our skin tones, your height and beauty, my creativity, your ambition and my raw sexuality… that kid could rule the damn world. President Holtzmann-Tolan, whaddya say?”

“Tolan-Holtzmann,” Patty corrects. “That’s a kind offer, Holtzy, but I’ll politely decline. Not biologically possible, either.”

“Details, details,” Holtzmann dismisses. “I’d be such a cool dad.”

“Our taxi is here!” Abby announces, reading from her phone. “Lets go, ladies!”

 

 Erin slides into the back seat with Patty, their knees brushing together. Patty shivers – it’s a cold evening.

“I like your outfit. You look, um, you look very pretty.”

“Quit flirting, Gilbert!” Holtzmann calls back. “Be careful of her wandering hands, Patty!”

Erin flushes deep red and fiddles with the end of her dress.

Patty squeezes her shoulder reassuringly. “Looking forward to tonight?”

“Yes, actually. Should be fun.”

 

Everything’s going smoothly.

They’re sitting at their designated table in a large dining hall, minus Holtzmann who disappeared ten minutes ago to spend some 'quality time' with Jennifer Lynch. Abby’s had two rum and cokes, Erin’s on her third glass of white wine (and holding herself together remarkably well) and Patty’s sipping her second vodka lemonade, feeling pleasantly buzzed.

Mayor Bradley had spoken to them for all of five minutes, introducing them to senior politicians that Patty can’t remember the names of, then thankfully left them to it.

Patty’s been trying hard not to stare at Erin for the whole evening, but it’s getting more and more difficult. Erin’s resting her chin in her palm, listening to Abby tell one of her many stories, relaxed and so beautiful.

“Then the rat started chewing through a wire, triggered a fire alarm and we had to evacuate the whole school. That’s how we almost got fired the third time. All Holtzy’s fault, she never should’ve brought that rat into the lab.”

Patty laughs as Abby shivers in disgust upon recounting the experience. When Erin doesn’t react, she follows her gaze and finds that instead of listening to Abby, she’s staring at the half-full dance floor, watching couples move and sway to the music.

“Wanna dance?” Patty asks, voice wavering.

Erin squirms in her seat. “I don’t know how.”

“I can teach you. We’ll do a waltz. Super easy. Six steps.”

“Lets do it,” Erin decides, downing the last of her wine.

Abby looks gob smacked. “Have fun out there.”

“We will,” Erin calls over her shoulder.

Patty’s starting to think this might be a mistake.

Putting herself in a close contact situation with Erin when she’s so beautiful and Patty’s had a few drinks? Bad idea.

A few songs, that’s all. Just teach Erin the basic steps, dance with her for a little while and then escape back to the safety of their table.

They make it to the dance floor.

“Shall I lead?” Patty offers, stomach fluttering nervously.

“Please. I’ll try not to stand on your toes.”

“So, I’ll put my hand here,” Patty explains, resting her hand lightly on Erin’s waist. “And you put your hand on my shoulder… and then we hold hands here… okay! You’ve got it.”

“Now what?” Erin asks and she’s only inches away and her hand is warm in Patty’s.

Her hair looks impossibly soft and her eyes are a deeper blue than the ocean and when Patty breathes in all she can taste is floral perfume and alcohol and the fear that this is all about to come crashing down.

“So, I’ll tell you where to go and I’ll be doing the opposite. Ready?”

“Ready,” Erin says and her grip on Patty’s hand tightens.

“Right foot back, left foot left, right foot left, left foot forward, right foot forward and across, left foot right,” Patty instructs, leading Erin through one count. She stumbles slightly but manages to keep up. “And again… perfect.”

“Yeah?” Erin asks, breathless and excited.

“Model student,” Patty compliments, taking them round again.

“I’ve got a good teacher,” Erin replies and if Patty wasn’t so terrified of the consequences, she’d kiss her.

They dance easily around the hall, Patty keeping watch for other couples they might bump into and steering them away to avoid a collision. The music, dancing and Erin being this close is making her feel giddy. She purposely slows them down and takes a step back.

“Did your ex ever dance with you?”

“Phil? No, never. He usually acted like he didn’t even know me, dancing was probably a step too far,” Erin says.

Patty tries to tell herself that she feels angry because she hates it when anyone mistreats her friends, and nothing more.

“Bit of a dick?”

“Mm. I probably could’ve done better than him.”

 _Definitely could_ ’ve, Patty thinks.

“Have you been seeing anyone recently?” She asks before she can stop herself.

Erin momentarily stops dancing, taken aback by her question. “No. No, I’m not. Are you?”

Patty shakes her head and the dancing resumes.

“Your last relationship?” Erin asks.

“Last year. We dated for a few months. Wasn’t really going anywhere. She ended it.”

“Oh,” Erin breathes. “Have you… have you dated a lot of women?”

“A few,” Patty says casually. “Have you?”

Erin laughs nervously and stares at her feet. “Nope. No. None.”

“Looks like you’re getting the hang of the dancing,” Patty says, changing the subject for her.

“I think I preferred dancing at the firehouse. Nobody watching.”

“Nobody’s watching. It’s just me and you.”

Erin looks up and her eyes are glassy and she’s about to say something and Patty’s almost cracked it; that look Erin gave her sometimes, the one she doesn’t understand, yet it seems to bore right into her soul and she’s almost figured it out, if she could just –

The song abruptly ends, and Erin pulls away and Patty’s tapped on the shoulder, so she turns around.

“Hey, gorgeous. Care to dance?” A man in a black suit and tie asks, already taking Patty’s hand in his.

“I…” Patty starts and turns back to look for Erin, but she’s already gone. “Sure.”

Patty let’s herself be led around the dance floor. She keeps looking for Erin but can’t spot her. The man keeps talking, smiling, flirting but it's all ineffective, rebounding off her.

The song ends, the man gives her his number and Patty excuses herself, retreating to their table. Erin’s there, sipping a fourth glass of wine, talking to Abby. Upon her approach they stop talking and turn towards her.

“He seems nice,” Abby says suggestively. Erin stares at her drink. “You gonna call him?”

“Nah,” Patty dismisses and sits down.

Abby raises an eyebrow. “Not your type?”

Patty shrugs. “I got my eye on someone else.”

Erin takes a large gulp of her drink.

Abby glances at her, then back to Patty. “Anyone we know?”

“I wouldn’t think so.”

“I’m going to the bathroom,” Erin mumbles and leaves.

Abby watches her go, face strained. She turns back and Patty’s stomach flips, scared of what she might say.

“Well, that confirmed my suspicions. I think you should –”

“Wassup, guys?” Holtzmann flops back down in her chair, sans bowtie. She has lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth, her hair ruffled, and shirt crumpled.

Abby sighs and grabs a napkin, dabbing at Holtzmann’s mouth. “Having a nice time, Holtzy?”

“Answer yes or no,” Patty demands. “We don’t want to know where or what you’ve been doing.”

Holtzmann narrows her eyes. “What about _who_ I’ve been doing?”

“I think that’s self-explanatory,” Abby says, watching Jennifer Lynch slink back to her own table.

“Yes, I am having a nice time. What about you guys?”

“Everything’s fine. Patty and Erin had a dance. Patty got asked out by a handsome stranger.”

“Ooh, nice. Where’d Gilbert go?”

“She went to the bathroom,” Abby says, looking directly at Patty.

Patty can take a hint. “I’ll go check on her.”

The last thing she hears as she makes her way to the restroom is Holtzmann asking Abby for a mint.

_That confirms my suspicions._

What suspicions? That Patty likes Erin? Would Abby be mad at her for liking her best friend? More importantly, what if Erin had realised how Patty felt about her? Should she come clean and apologise? Or bury her feelings even deeper?

With a sigh, she pushes the restroom door open and waits by the sinks, nervously fiddling with her bracelet.

After a few minutes, Erin emerges from one of the cubicles, taken aback at the sight of her. She looks... fine. A little shaken, but otherwise the same.

"Hey. You startled me."

"Sorry. Wasn't my intention."

“I know, I'm not...” Erin sighs and trails off. “You said you like someone?”

Patty’s heart rate nearly doubles. “Yes.”

Erin turns away, washing her hands. “How long have you been seeing them?”

“We're not dating. I haven’t told them I like them like that.”

“Why?”

Patty hesitates one final time. "I don't know if they like me back. And it's like... I don't know how to bring it up, because what if they don't feel the same way? Would they still want to be friends? Or would I have ruined a really special relationship with someone I truly care about? It would mess everything up. It's a massive risk and I'm scared to take it. This person... I love them deeply. If I wasn't friends with them anymore it would break my heart." 

That’s it.

All her cards on the table.

Nothing left up her sleeve.

Erin looks up and forces a smile. She looks defeated and on the verge of tears.

“I know exactly how you feel.”

Oh.

_Oh._

Erin likes her.

Erin thinks she likes someone else.

Erin is hurt and upset and… leaving.

Erin is leaving, and Patty doesn’t stop her, can’t stop her, because she’s rooted to the spot, unable to process those realisations.

Tears prick at her eyes and threaten to spill over, frustration overwhelming her. She’d come so close to telling Erin she liked her, had discovered in a backhanded way that Erin liked her too and that she probably hated her now because she thought Patty liked someone else.

She’s finally cracked the code, finally worked out what it means when Erin gives her those searching looks, the ones she never understood until now.

(Erin looks at her like she’s in love with her.)

Patty’s not sure how long she stands there, but later Abby enters the bathroom and rests a hand on her arm.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tell me your thoughts on Erin's parents, Patty's brother and *that* gala scene?
> 
> see you next time.


	6. November - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's been a while, friends...
> 
> I suggest refreshing your memories of the last chapter before diving in to this one!
> 
> little switch halfway through to see what Erin is getting up to

Part 2 

 

Patty sits on the couch, drained, and looks around Abby’s apartment. It’s exactly what she expected – shelves covered with picture frames and mementos, books piled up on small tables and pillows with a variety of science puns strewn across the couch. Homely, comforting. The place feels familiar even though she’s never been here before.

She slips her heels off, grabs a cushion with an atom on and hugs it to her chest, sadness overwhelming her. This is the exact opposite of what was supposed to happen. Nobody was meant to have feelings for the other, and they certainly were meant to be reciprocated. That wasn’t part of Patty’s plan. Patty’s plan was to forget all about any feelings that weren’t platonic until those feelings went away. Now there’s two sets of romantic feelings to deal with.

“Here,” Abby says, coming from the kitchen to hand her a cup of tea.

“Thanks, Abby.”

“Of course.” She sits on the couch next to Patty and takes her hand reassuringly. “Let’s talk.”

“How much do you know? What do you think is going on right now?” Patty asks, desperate for another person’s perspective.

Abby pushes her glasses up, a sign of concentration. “I think Erin likes you romantically. I think you feel the same way. I don’t know what happened in the bathroom, but you’re upset and so is Erin judging by the way she walked out.”

Patty nods, sighing. “When did you know that she liked me?”

“Since Holtzy’s movie night when the two of you held hands. Me and Erin shared one bedroom, you and Holtzy shared the other, remember?”

Patty's eyes widen in shock. "That _long_? That was way back in August!"

“Yep. She wouldn’t shut up about you. Patty said we’re going to decorate the third floor together, Patty treated me to takeout because I did well at my research pitch, Patty said she liked my cake, Patty’s really smart, Patty told me all about the Roman Empire, Patty dresses well, Patty’s earrings are pretty, Patty always asks me how my day is.

The list goes on. I’ve never seen Erin get so excited talking about someone before. Since she started working up with you, you’ve seemed very close. She looks at you differently. At first, I thought it was a friend crush, some kind of hero worship. But I’ve been observing the pair of you for months and I think it’s much more than that.

When Erin walks into a room she looks for you. If you’re not there, she asks where you are. She constantly seeks you out. Then tonight at the gala, when you asked her if she wanted to dance. That made up my mind completely. Erin’s never danced with anyone, not that I’ve seen. Now, I don’t know much about romance, but I’ve seen the way you look at each other.” Abby waves a hand, ending her observations. "Anyway. The bathroom?”

Patty shuts her eyes, reliving the events of just over an hour ago. The hurt on Erin’s face repeats over and over.

“She asked me about the person I liked. I said I hadn’t told them I liked them because I’m scared of the consequences. I hoped she’d realise I was talking about her, but she didn’t. Then she said she knew exactly how I felt and left.”

Abby groans. “So, she didn’t know you were talking about her, but you knew she was talking about you?”

“Right,” Patty says, and guilt takes over once more. “Until that point I had no idea she felt the same way. I never thought it was a possibility. I’d assumed she was straight, what with the Kevin thing and all. And now she thinks I like someone else and she’s upset. I made her feel bad.”

Abby shakes her head. “Patty, I don’t believe for a moment you’d hurt any of us intentionally. Erin will know that, too.” Her phone vibrates, and she picks it up, reading the message. “Holtzmann. She’s at Erin’s, talking to her.”

“Do you think I should call her?” Patty asks, sitting up. “Talk to her?”

“Nah. Erin would probably freak out, if she isn’t already. Maybe leave it a little while. Let both of you take a step back from it.”

Patty nods, grateful for Abby's calm presence. “Abby, I’m so sorry. All of this could’ve been avoided. I try not to bottle things up, but I didn’t know who to talk to about it.”

“You can talk to me,” Abby says gently.

 “So, you’re not mad at me?”

“Mad?” Abby frowns. 

“For liking Erin. I mean, she’s your best friend.”

“And if I could choose someone for Erin to be with, you think I wouldn’t choose you? Patty, you’re every girl’s dream,” she says, so genuine that Patty believes her. “You’re kind and intuitive. You’re loyal and open to others and expect the same back. You call people out on their shit. You constantly make us laugh. You’re patient, don’t judge other people and you see the good in everyone. A Pisces through and through.”

“Astrology fan?” Patty asks, surprised.

Abby shrugs. “It’s accurate for most people I know, especially me and Erin. What I’m trying to say is, there’s some very important boxes you want ticked when your best friend finds a new romantic partner; Are they respectful? Do they care? Are they trustworthy? Is there potential for a long-lasting, loving relationship? You tick all those boxes. Plus, we’re already friends. So, no, I’m not mad.”

“Okay. I’m glad,” Patty smiles, relieved. “And thank you, for saying that.”

“Of course. I remember in college when Erin would get a new boyfriend I would worry about it. She’s quite… vulnerable, sometimes. I worry that people will exploit her, take advantage.”

Patty nods, wanting to bring up what they’d discussed a few weeks ago. “When you came in the other morning she was talking about her parents. She said they never used to touch her or hug her, or they did but very rarely.”

Abby smiles sadly. “Yep. First time she came to my house she freaked the fuck out.”

“How come?”

“My family are more affectionate than hers. Lots of hugs and high-fives and – well, you know what I’m like, so it’s easy to imagine. You come from school, you get a hug. Didn’t do well on your math test, that’s okay, you get a hug. You want a hug? You get a hug. Erin wasn’t used to that, still isn’t, I don’t think. She got very overwhelmed by it.”

“What were her parents like when you went over?”

“Fine. Normal. I don’t know what it was like when I wasn’t there – Erin said they acted very differently around me. I don’t know. I worry about her. Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened to her if we’d never been friends – and that’s not me trying to act like I was some kind of hero, but I do wonder.”

“I think about that, too,” Patty agrees.

“But I’m not worried about her with you. In fact, if I could pick one person in the entire world for her to be with, it would be you. You’re the best of the best, Patty.”

Patty blinks, eyes watering. “Thanks, Abby. That means a lot to me.”

Abby rubs her arm, a comforting gesture. “I just don’t want it to be one-sided. I want Erin to be able to support you as much as I think you’re able to support her. That’s my one concern.”

Patty considers that for a few moments; it's not something she's thought about until now and she supposes that's a good sign. Yes, she'd got Erin through a shitty e-mail from her parents and listened to awful stories of bullying and loneliness, but Erin had got her through a late night work-related panic attack.

She'd told Erin about Michael, too. That's what sticks at the forefront of her mind. Patty had never told anyone outside of her family about Michael before, not the real, gut-wrenching truth that left her with cold sweats and nausea. She never even told Michelle and she loved her deeply for three years. But she told Erin. She told Erin on an early Tuesday morning, huddled together on the couch with a blanket, and she'd cried because it hurt to say it, but then everything was okay. Everything was okay and she supposes that if she can tell Erin that, then she can tell her anything. 

“I don’t think you need to worry about that. She's pretty good at getting me through stuff like that,” Patty explains. 

“She is?” Abby looks surprised. “Well, that’s good. Really good. But enough about Erin. How are _you_ feeling about all of this? I imagine you feel very stressed.”

Patty sighs deeply, fiddling with the cushion. “I am stressed. Everything feels so negative and terrifying, every scenario I picture in my head is just awful. Erin won’t like me back – rejection, embarrassment. Erin will find out and hate me – fear, guilt. You guys might kick me out of the group – insecurity.”

Abby gives her hand a squeeze. “Patty, that would never happen. _Never_.”

“I know that, deep down. If I’d known she felt the same, I would’ve said something. But I didn’t want to fuck everything up, so I just tried to ignore it. Stupid,” she mutters.

Abby frowns. “Hey, don’t say that. I could’ve done more. I knew Erin liked you for a long time and I didn’t say anything, mainly because I didn’t think it was my place. I’m sorry you didn’t feel as though you could talk to me about it. Now you know that Erin likes you back, do you feel differently?”

“I feel… excited. But also terrified,” Patty admits. “If it doesn’t work out, then the team might suffer because of it.”

“But if it does?”

Patty smiles faintly. “It could be amazing. She’s so wonderful. I think about her all the time. When she’s not around, I wonder why. If I hear a sappy song on the radio, it reminds me of her. If I walk past a restaurant, I think about taking her there. I think we’d both be really happy together.”

“Exactly,” Abby says, snapping her fingers. “Question is, do you want to take that risk?”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Erin gives her hair one final rinse and turns off the shower, willing herself to shut off the waterworks currently streaming out of her eyes. Crying won’t help. Crying won’t stop Patty liking someone else.

She towels off, wrings her hair out and pulls on clean pyjamas.

“Erin?” Holtzmann says from the other side of the bathroom door. “You okay?”

She’d called Holtzmann about an hour earlier, crying, and begging her to come over to her apartment so that she wouldn’t be alone.

Holtzmann had come, banging on her door not ten minutes later, with a bag full of snacks. She’d brought Erin down from her panicked state, as yet unable to deduce what was wrong, and suggested she have a shower because that usually calmed her down.

“I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second.”

She roughly towels her hair and slips on fluffy socks, feeling a little better. She leaves the bathroom and enters her bedroom. Holtzmann’s perched on the edge of her bed, also wearing pyjamas and fiddling with her alarm clock. She looks up when Erin walks in.

Erin notices a new structure in her bedroom that wasn’t there before.

“Hi. I made you a blanket fort. We can talk in it.”

Erin pauses, stunned by her thoughtfulness. “That’s so sweet of you. Are those… my clothes?”

“Yep," Holtzmann says, looking down at her newly acquired outfit. "Borrowed some ‘cause my suit was kinda not comfy anymore. That okay?”

“That’s okay.”

Holtzmann puts the alarm clock down. “Shall we go to the den? It’s super cool. Pillows and everything. Snacks, too. And blankets.”

They go to the den. It’s like the blanket forts her and Abby used to make as kids; a bed sheet for a roof, held up by Erin’s desk, a carpet of pillows underneath and multiple blankets.

Erin settles, sitting cross-legged and pulling a blanket over her legs. Holtzmann mimics her position.

“I love it,” Erin says, looking around at the pillows and blankets Holtzmann had pulled from her bed.

“Got to use my engineering skills when I can.”

“Like you don’t already?” Erin jokes.

“Yeah,” Holtzmann says distractedly. She points to her bag of snacks. “I brought cookies and chocolate. Hope you have a sweet tooth. Feeling better?”

“Yeah, lots. Thanks for coming over.”

“Course. Wanna snuggle?”

Erin hesitates, unsure of intimacy, the physical closeness.

“I’m not gonna make a move on you,” Holtzmann says, serious.

“Why would I worry about that?”

“Because. Some girls are wary of me,” Holtzmann says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “It’s fine. We don’t have to. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I think maybe I do, sometimes."

“You never make me uncomfortable,” Erin says firmly.

“Promise?”

“Promise. I’m scared of you setting me on fire, not feeling me up in a blanket fort.”

Holtzmann smiles. “Thanks, Gilbert.”

“Why do you call me Gilbert?” Erin asks, munching on a cookie.

“You call me Holtzmann.”

“ _Everyone_ calls you Holtzmann.”

“Not everyone,” Holtzmann disagrees. “Besides, I couldn’t be the only team member with a three-syllable name. Er-in. Ab-by. Pat-ty. Jil-li-an. Doesn’t work. Must be Holtz-mann. I’m doing it for the team, trust me.”

“What’s wrong with Jillian?”

Holtzmann shudders. “A terrible name.”

“I think it’s pretty,” Erin shrugs, grateful for the change in conversation that will stop Holtzmann asking what's wrong.

Holtzmann looks scandalized. “You are such a flirt, Erin. Seductive little kitten. Perhaps it’s _you_ that’s gonna be feeling _me_ up in the blanket fort. Miss Wandering-Hands Gilbert.”

“I highly doubt that.”

Holtzmann smirks around a cookie. “So, what’s all this about, Er-bear? What’s getting you down? Talk to Holtzy. I won’t spill your secrets. Mainly ‘cause I’ll forget ‘em.”

“That’s reassuring,” Erin sighs, trying to delay the inevitable. 

“ _Please?_ ”

“Okay,” Erin agrees. She’d called Holtzmann here in the middle of the night, she at least owed her an explanation.

Holtzmann gasps. “Wait, for real? No one’s ever told me a secret before.”

“Well, I've got a big one. I like someone. Romantically,” Erin says slowly, cautiously.

“And?”

“They like someone else,” Erin says, voice thick with sad realisation.

“And you feel sad?”

“Yeah,” Erin whispers. “I feel really sad. I thought maybe there was a chance. I thought they felt the same. I guess I read the signals wrong.”

Holtzmann pouts, frowning. “ _Who is it_? I’ll kick his ass. I’ll make him wish he was never born. Making _my_ Erin feel sad. I’ll… I’ll put a rocket in his mailbox. I’ll get my Nerf gun squad and wait outside his house. I’ll - ”

“Holtz. You don’t need to do that,” Erin says, appreciating the sentiment.

“Oh. Are you sure?”

“I’m sure." She takes a deep breath and exhales sharply. "Besides, the person I like, they’re a woman, not a man.”

“Erin…” Holtzmann breathes. “You like a girl?”

“Yes,” Erin says, tears stinging at her eyes.

The thought terrifies her beyond belief.

She thinks back to a conversation at her parents’ house, watching a news report about the AIDs crisis. She must have been eight or nine, reading a book on a Sunday afternoon while her mom crocheted a blanket and her dad read the newspaper.

 

[ ‘I have no problem with the gays,’ her mom had said. ‘Margaret from over the road knew a gay, once. But it’s the diseases they carry. They’re not safe. Erin, if you ever see a queer in the street, you mustn’t let him anywhere near you. Not until we know more about it. Else you might get sick, too.’

‘How will I know? If he’s a… queer?’

Her mom sighed disapprovingly. ‘Gay man usually wear funny clothes.’

‘So do the women,’ her father piped up.

‘Imagine if me and your father swapped clothes.’ Erin did, vividly picturing the pale blue dress and grey trousers and jacket switching bodies. ‘That’s usually how you can tell. That reminds me, too. Erin, if you see a queer woman – well, she might try to touch you, put her hands on you, kiss you. If she tries to touch you, then you tell her to go away or you’ll call the police. If she doesn’t go away, then you scream for help and run. Have you got that?’

‘Yes. I will,’ Erin had said, deadly serious.

‘Good. Like I said, I’ve got no problem with them. _But I wouldn’t want you to be one.’_ ]

 

She can’t imagine ever coming out to them. They’d only dismiss her, push her away. Just another thing she’s making up for attention.

“But that’s so exciting!” Holtzmann says. “Isn’t it? Or isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. It’s never happened before.”

“Wait. Is this… is this you coming out?”

“I guess so,” Erin whispers, crying openly.

Holtzmann pulls her impossibly close, hugging her tightly. “Erin, you mean the world to me. I love you so much. Nothing will ever change how I feel about you. You can talk to me about this anytime – if you feel scared or unsure, then I’m here. I’m always here for you. I always will be. You’re so brave for telling me. I’m so proud of you.”

Erin cries into Holtzmann’s shoulder. Everything feels so overwhelming, heightened and emotional. Maybe it doesn’t matter if her parents will never accept her if Holtzmann will say things like that, if Holtzmann will hold her and support her like that. She pulls away from the hug and Holtzmann smiles at her.

“I love you, too. Thank you for saying such nice things. My parents would never say anything like that.”

“Mine neither.”

Erin looks at her through wet eyelashes and sees the sadness in her eyes. “You’re in the Shitty Parents Club too, huh?”

“Oh, yep. Lifetime membership. Sign me up.”

“Free emotional trauma upon registration,” Erin jokes darkly.

“Unlimited damage to your mental health including lifelong emotional repression and feeling unloved. Sign up now before it’s too late!”

Erin grimaces. “What a fun club.”

Holtzmann looks away, like she’s revealed too much. “So, uh, let’s get back to… the liking girls stuff. The gay stuff.”

“Well, not gay, exactly. Probably more bi," Erin explains.

Holtzmann pats her arm affectionately. “Is this a recent thing? Like, did you know you weren’t straight before or…?”

“It's recent. But I think I’ve always known, I just never realised. Was it like that for you? Or am I just stupid?” She laughs self-consciously.

It was a strange notion; that somehow, deep down, she always knew she was attracted to women but never let those feelings escape from her subconscious.

“You’re not stupid, Er,” Holtzmann says, the most serious Erin’s ever seen her. “What you said makes perfect sense. I didn’t start questioning until my early twenties and only came out aged 25. These things take time, everyone's journey is different.”

“That surprises me, you know. I thought you would have come out sooner. You’re just so…”

“Gay?” Holtzmann supplies, and they both laugh.

“Right. I can’t imagine you not as you are now.”

“I wasn’t always this cool,” Holtzmann muses. Erin rolls her eyes. “And to answer your question, yes it was like that for me – knowing and realising are very different things. I always knew I liked girls, but I didn’t realise how much until my early twenties.”

“You’ve still got twenty years on me,” Erin sighs. She feels like she's spent two decades partially in the dark.

“Like I said, these things take time. You don’t just wake up one morning and decide who you are. If you could that would be super cool – I'd definitely want to be Professor X from X-Men. So! Who’s the lucky lady? Do I know her?”

“Yes,” Erin says without hesitation.

Unexpectedly, she feels like she can trust Holtzmann with this information – Holtzmann wouldn’t hurt her, not like this. She might set fire to her desk, and Erin herself on some occasions, but she would never purposely hurt her.

Holtzmann gasps. “Okay, that definitely narrows it down. Is it Abby?”

Erin pulls a face. “What? _No_!”

Holtzmann laughs. “Is it my ex-girlfriend Stacey, my cousin Natalie, my cousin Georgie, or my neighbour Anne?”

“No,” Erin confirms. Was Holtzmann literally listing every woman she knew?

“Good, because Stacey is a bitch, Natalie is married, Georgie is in prison and my neighbour Anne is 82 years old. You’ve got a filthy mind, Gilbert.” Erin opens her mouth to protest and decides better of it. Holtzmann continues, “What about my hairdresser, Sarah? She’s kinda cute.”

“Holtz, please remember that we _both_ have to know this woman. I have no idea who your hairdresser is.”

“Right, okay. What about Jennifer Lynch?”

“No. She’s hot, though.”

When she wasn’t telling TV cameras and journalists that the four of them were frauds and psychos, Erin quite liked the woman. She was clearly running the show behind closed doors and always picked up the phone when they needed her. 

“Hands off my gal,” Holtzmann smirks. 

Erin frowns. “What?”

“I’m dating Jennifer Lynch.” ~~~~

“What?" Erin scoffs. "No, you aren’t.”

Holtzmann looks bewildered. “Erin… yes I am.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re joking. Are you joking?”

“I’m not joking!” Erin says, incredulous.

“Please tell me you’ve noticed that after every meeting with the mayor she calls me into her office?"

“Well… yes. But that’s because she needs to talk to you. She said you’ve been bad or messed up or something.”

Holtzmann sighs, exasperated. “And have you noticed that the day after our meeting I have like a dozen bruises on my neck?”

Erin flushes. “I hadn’t, actually.”

“And where do you think I got those fluffy handcuffs from?”

“Jennifer Lynch,” Erin guesses. Was it really that obvious? “Who else knows?”

“Abby, Patty, Kevin and now you. Finally.”

“ _Kevin_ knew? What the hell! I still don’t believe you,” she teases.

Holtzmann takes the bait. “Oh yeah? You want to see the pictures we took during our rendezvous at the Gala tonight?”

Erin's eyes bulge. “ _Tonight?!_ Ew! No! Maybe.”

Holtzmann snorts. “You're a dark horse, Gilbert. Impossibly unobservant, but still a dark horse. And I think we’ve established it’s definitely _not_ Jennifer Lynch. Wait! Is it _me_?” Holtzmann asks, eyes wide.

Erin fights the urge to roll her eyes so hard they pop out of her head. “No, Holtz. It’s not you.”

“Damn. You don’t like dating people out of your league, that’s okay.” Erin flicks her nose. “Ouch! Who’s left?”

“Um...I don’t know,” Erin mumbles, feeling like there's a dark cloud hanging over her head about to burst.

Holtzmann looks at her then, different from before and Erin knows that she knows, perhaps all along. “It's Patty, isn’t it.”

It’s not a question. Erin nods anyway, stomach churning. “When did you know?”

“Only like two seconds ago. But it makes sense. Remember when you got drunk and started comparing her to a tree?”

Erin groans, embarrassment competing with panic . “I’d forgotten about that. God, that was stupid.”

Holtzmann laughs. “No way! That was poetic. I remember I asked you if you wanted to climb Patty like a tree, too, and you didn't say no. Do you think she likes you back?”

“She doesn’t," Erin says, chest aching. "When that guy gave her his number tonight, she said she wasn’t going to call him because she already likes someone else.”

That had hurt. She knew that wasn’t Patty’s intention, because Patty didn’t know, but it still hurt. She’s never really liked anyone before, not in the way she likes Patty. The reality being that she didn’t feel the same was almost unbearable.

“Maybe she was talking about you.”

The possibility makes Erin freeze. She hadn’t even considered it. “Maybe.”

“Erin, I don’t want to give you false hope, but I see the way she looks at you. You know when your favourite person walks into the room and it seems to light up?”

“That’s how I feel about her.”

Every time Patty spoke to her, or even just looked at her, it was like someone had turned a megawatt lamp on inside Erin’s brain.

Holtzmann squeals. “Tell me _more_! Spill all the details of your big gay crush on Patty.”

Erin smiles nervously. “She’s so beautiful, Holtz. Like, have you seen her eyes? And her smile? And when she laughs it’s so _nice_. Her hair is so pretty – she gets different colours woven in every month, I noticed that. Did you know she can speak Spanish fluently? And ASL and some Italian, too. She’s _so_ smart.

She’s kind and compassionate and she _listens_. I know maybe that doesn’t sound like much, but apart from Abby, no one has ever listened to me before. Patty always listens, like she really cares about what I have to say. She makes me feel special. I think about her all the time. I want to kiss her all the time.”

Holtzmann looks highly amused. “You’re a smitten little kitten.”

“I know. God, I know."

Patty is normal. Patty is kind. Patty understands her. That’s all Erin’s ever wanted. Someone to hold her down when she feels like she’s floating away. Someone to comfort and support her. Someone who will let her do those same things for them when they need it.

Patty is all those things and so much more. Erin desperately wants her to be more.

“What’s your favourite part of Patty?”

Erin frowns. “Are you asking me to objectify my friend?”

“Yeah, but in a nice way.”

“Her legs," Erin says, biting her lip. "And her face, obviously. And everything else.”

“Mmm," Holtzmann moans. "Patty has great legs. When she wears heels I die a little bit.”

“Me too. She looked amazing tonight. I mean, she looks amazing all the time, but particularly tonight. Did you know that she danced with me? Like proper dancing.”

"I know," Holtzmann says.

Erin sighs, wishing she could go back to that moment. She'd almost told Patty how she felt on the dance floor after she said that wonderful thing; 'Nobody's watching. It's just me and you.' Erin had wanted to tell her how she felt without really knowing what she felt, only that the feeling had been there for months and it made her want to throw up and smile simultaneously. 

Then Patty had been whisked away and someone else had given her their number. Then she knew what the feeling was. Then that feeling was crushed by the knowledge that Patty already had that feeling for someone else.

 

“Erin, I just remembered… in the taxi earlier – what I said. About your wandering hands and flirting.” Holtzmann looks sheepish. “I’m so sorry. I was just joking around.”

“It’s okay, Holtz. Really.”

“If Patty liked you back would you want to date her?”

Erin smiles dreamily. “I would love that.”

 

On many a rainy day sat at her desk she’d imagined a date with Patty without even realising she was doing it.

Where would they go? That usually depended on Erin’s mood that day; a bad mood meant they’d go ice-skating or a walk in Central Park, a good mood could be an afternoon at the Natural History museum or a night in watching movies.

What would happen? Everything Erin thought possible. Patty might hold her hand and guide them around the ice-rink or tell her interesting things as they walked through exhibitions. Erin might buy Patty her favourite flavor of ice-cream with sprinkles on top or curl into her side as they watched a movie. Patty might kiss her.

Erin imagined that the most. Would Patty wait until their second date? Would she lean in after the movie, ice-cream or ice-skating and kiss her? How would it feel? Soft, Erin thought, and heavy. She might run her fingers through Erin’s hair or place a gentle hand on her shoulder.

 

Holtzmann pokes her between the eyes. “Hey. Come back, you useless gay. How long have you liked her?”

“Ages," Erin sighs. "I didn’t _realise_ until tonight; when that guy asked her out, the thought of her being with someone else, it made me jealous. I didn’t want her to be with someone else because I want to be with her.”

“What exactly happened tonight? You and Patty danced. You went to the bathroom before I got back. Patty also went to the bathroom. Then you left. So…" Holtzmann says, frowning, "what happened in the bathroom?”

“We talked. I asked about the person she likes. Made me look kind of obvious, I know. She said they’re not dating because she’s scared to tell them how she feels. She said if they didn’t feel the same then it might ruin their friendship. A special friendship, I think she said. And if they weren’t friends it would be heartbreaking or something. She said she really loves them.”

Erin fights back tears, frustration rising to the surface once more. How could she ever compete with a person like that? It would be hard enough if Patty didn’t already like someone, but now? There was no chance in hell Patty would ever want to be more than friends.

“She said all of that to you?”

“Yeah,” Erin says and what a kick in the teeth it had been.

Holtzmann sighs and brushes a tear away with her knuckle. “Erin.”

“Yeah?”

“Take a look in the mirror, sweetheart. Patty was talking about you.”

Erin’s heart pounds. “No, she wasn’t.”

“Why else would she tell you all that?”

“Because… I asked her about it.”

“Nope, nope, nope,” Holtzmann shakes her head. “That was her confessing her feelings for _you_.”

“No,” Erin protests weakly, breathless.

“Yes. Did you say anything to her?”

“I said I knew exactly how she felt. And then I left because I was upset that she liked someone else.”

“Erin, she likes _you_ ,” Holtzmann says gently. “Can you see that?”

Erin blinks, mind whirring. _Maybe_ Patty was talking about her. She supposed they did have a special friendship. And if they weren’t friends anymore it would be heartbreaking. It might mess things up. And Patty did really love her, didn’t she?

 _Maybe_.

Erin doesn't want to risk a whole friendship on a maybe.

“But… why?" She asks, panicked. "Patty could have anyone. Why would she like me?”

“Well, why do you like _her_?” Holtzmann counters. “Go on, list all the reasons why you like her.”

“She’s smart. She’s kind. She makes me laugh. She’s beautiful. We sing along to her Fleetwood Mac albums at work. She cares about me. She makes me feel good.”

Holtzmann looks at her expectantly. “Is it really so impossible that she would feel the same things about you?”

“I guess not,” Erin says, hopeful.

Patty gets wine drunk and cries over the lost library of Alexandria. Patty calls Erin baby. Patty made up a handshake for them. Patty says she’s proud of Erin. Patty dances with her. Patty told Erin about her brother, she let Erin comfort her, she let Erin in.

Patty told her that she liked her, and Erin was too stupid to understand. Then she’d walked away and left her, standing there.

“Oh, god. I just left her, Holtz! She was trying to tell me, and I walked out! She must feel awful and it’s all my fault! I need to call her. I need to tell her!”

Holtzmann places a firm but comforting hand on her shoulder. “Erin, stop.”

“But what if she’s really upset?!”

“Patty will be fine. Abby’s with her, probably having the same conversation.”

“You don’t think I should call her?”

“No. It’s two am. You’re emotionally exhausted. Now’s not the time. I’d wait till Monday, then you can talk face to face.”

“You’re right.”

“I usually am.”

“Do you really think she likes me?” Erin whispers, smiling.

“Yeah, I do. You’re her favourite person. Anyone can see it.”

A feeling of intense happiness wraps around her, warm and soothing, like stepping into a hot bath or being held in a Patty hug. Erin’s hands tingle, butterflies erupting in her stomach. “Imagine if we went on a date. Imagine if she kissed me. I would love that.”

Holtzmann boops her on the nose. “You’re so cute.”

“Do you think she would? Kiss me?”

“Probably. You’re gonna have to talk to her first, though.”

Erin sighs. Talking? To Patty? When she has a full-blown crush on her? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.

“I’m not good at talking.”

Holtzmann shrugs. “Me either. We can find a way to tell her.”

“Thank you, Holtzmann. For everything you’ve done tonight.”

“No problemo. Anything for my Er-bear.”

“Can we sleep here?”

“I was planning on it.”

Holtzmann grabs a pillow for her head and lies down. Erin does the same, pulling a blanket over them both.

“Can we snuggle?”

Holtzmann beams, dimples showing. “Absolutely.”

Erin cuddles into her side, chin tucked in against Holtzmann’s shoulder. The younger woman is a surprisingly comforting presence. Calming, steady, warm.

Erin sleeps and dreams of Patty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (if ppl are still interested in this fic, I'll work on getting the next chapter up soon as, so let me know)
> 
> thoughts on this chapter??


	7. December

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> didn't update this fic for four months, apologies to everyone/anyone still reading
> 
> if you intend to read this final chapter and coming epilogue, I highly recommend re-reading the previous chapters to refresh your memory before reading on!
> 
> for the kind people still reading, I had some gorgeous fanart for this chapter commissioned by the wonderfully talented Eevachu, please check out her Patreon account if you get chance! 
> 
> again, thank you to anyone that has made it this far, I appreciate your patience :)

**December**

 

Patty opens the door to the firehouse and steps inside, taking a deep breath to try to calm herself.

Today is the day. Today she'll tell Erin that she likes her, and Erin will tell her she likes her back and everything will be okay. Right? Right.

She hangs up her coat in the hallway, hearing voices further inside. Abby and Erin. She slows her movements, wanting a few more seconds alone before she faces them both. She straightens her back and walks into the living area.

Abby and Erin are sat at the kitchen table, both cradling their morning cup of coffee like it’s the most important thing in the world. Their friendship is one of Patty’s favourite things. Their constant bickering and joking around is wildly entertaining, plus their ability to bring out each other’s ultimate nerdiness is unrivalled. Sometimes, Patty thinks Abby’s a little harsh on Erin, but a lot of the time she thinks Erin needs that.

Abby spots her first, eyes lighting up. “Morning, Patty!”

“Hey, Abs. Good weekend?”

“Not too bad,” Abby says quickly, not wanting to dominate the conversation.

“Hi, Erin,” Patty says, looking at her fully for the first time since she walked in, and God, she looks pretty. She’s wearing jeans and a purple sweater and Patty  _knows_  she’s wearing at least two t-shirts underneath due to the cold weather. Her hair is loose, past her shoulders now – Patty can’t remember her getting it cut since she’s known her.

 “Hi, Patty. How are you?” Erin says with a hesitant smile that makes Patty’s stomach flip.

“I’m real good,” she says, flashing her brightest smile and feeling giddy when Erin mirrors it. She points to the staircase. “I was thinking we should talk. Upstairs?”

A wave of panic crosses Erin’s face. “Right now?”

“Yeah, it’s kind of important.”

Erin grasps her Star Wars mug tighter, paling. “Um, sure. I just… have something I need to do. I’ll meet you up there. Soon.”

Patty frowns, deflated. Erin looks away. “Sure, okay.”

She trudges up the three flights of stairs, leaving silence behind, confused and a little upset.

Had she done something wrong? Erin did like her, right? Or had she imagined that whole conversation with Abby at the weekend?

She sighs and dumps her bag down on her desk, papers flying everywhere. She bends to pick the papers up and push them back on her desk.

No, of course she hadn’t imagined it.

This isn’t how she’d pictured this going today. She’d thought this, out of everything, would be the easiest part – the talking. Perhaps not, in Erin’s case. And how long was soon, anyway? A minute, ten, an hour? Patty bites her lip, frustrated.

She turns on her laptop, starts her work and waits.

 

___ 

 

“Don’t.”

“I literally didn’t say anything,” Abby says, almost smug. “Erin, it’s been  _thirty minutes_.”

“Yes, I know, and I know what you want to say.”

“And what’s that?”

“You want to say, ‘Erin, get your head out of your butt, go upstairs and talk to Patty.’”

Abby folds her arms and sits back in her chair. “So, why aren’t you doing that?”

“I’m scared.”

“Of?”

Erin fidgets, restless as they sit at the table, positions unchanged since Patty came in. “Of telling Patty how I feel about her. Once I tell her, I won’t be able to take it back. Everything will change, and I know that it’ll be a  _good_  change, but it scares me. I’ve never been in love before.”

“Well, neither have I,” Abby points out.

“I know. But with Patty, if we do this, then I probably will be in love with her. I don’t want to mess that up. With my track record, I probably will.”

“I understand. But Erin, you’re not going to find another Patty. She’s smart, she’s funny, she’s gorgeous and she  _gets_ you. Do you know how rare it is to find someone like that? Because I’m thinking it’s like, a billion to one odds, minimum.”

“Technically, I still have six other choices, then,” Erin points out, stalling for time.

Abby raises an eyebrow. “Yeah? And out of those other six, how many of them are going to speak English, live in New York city and be your best friend already?”

“None, I know.”

Erin considers for the first time how truly incredible it was that she, of all people, had found someone like Patty. Before, she would have been content with a guy like Phil, who would kiss her when he felt like he should and hold her hand, but not in public, and tell her to just get over things when she was upset.

But Patty… Patty would kiss her  _all_  the time and cuddle her at night because she’s (still) scared of the dark and she would listen, but tell her not to worry because everything would be okay and Erin would believe her.

“She even likes that stupid band you listen to.”

Erin glowers. “Fleetwood Mac are not a stupid band.”

Abby sighs. “Erin, this is the chance of a lifetime. If you’re too scared to take it, then that’s up to you. I’m not gonna tell you what to do. Just remember what happened the last time you got freaked out and bailed on somebody.”

Erin nods, a little hurt by the words, but Abby is right. She won’t be making that mistake twice.

“Did I miss it?” Holtzmann yells, barging through the door, flushed and breathless. “Did I miss it?”

“Miss what?” Erin asks.

“You… and… Patty,” Holtzmann gasps out between breaths. “I ran… like four… whole blocks. God.”

“I’m just about to go talk to her,” Erin announces, stomach fluttering nervously.

Holtzmann thrusts her fists in the air. “Woo! Go get your girl, Erin!”

Erin blushes. “She’s not…  _my_  girl.”

“Not with that attitude,” Abby counters. Holtzmann huffs a laugh, grinning.

“I’m going now,” Erin says and points a finger at Holtzmann. “Don’t listen in.”

“Scouts honour,” Holtzmann salutes.

Erin turns to the stairs and starts the journey up to the third floor, knowing what awaits. She twists her fingers nervously as she takes each step and tries to will her anxiety away. Everything will be fine, everything will be fine.

She reaches the third floor and knocks against the doorframe, ignoring the way her hands shake.

“Yeah?” Patty calls.

Erin clenches her fists and relaxes them. She  _will_  do this. She’s not going to run from this. She’s run from ghosts and Abby and her own happiness before now, but she’s not going to run from Patty. Not when there’s so much to run from. Running from Patty means running from friendship and intimacy and love. Erin’s never had an abundance of any of those things. She’s not about to take them away from Patty, either.

She approaches the doorway, cautiously peering through. “Hi. Can we talk?”

Patty looks up from her laptop and smiles and, God, Erin really does not deserve to be smiled at right now, but it calms her instantly.

“Sure. Give me two minutes, I’m just finishing something.”

“Of course. I’ll just… sit here.”

Erin pulls her own chair across and simply sits in front of Patty’s desk, waiting. Patty smiles briefly at her and turns her attention back to her laptop screen.

Erin looks at Patty. She looks at Patty  _a lot_  and Patty must’ve noticed before now, but she’s never said anything. Erin likes looking at Patty because there are so many little details to observe and record and remember forever.

Like the way her fingers fly across her laptop keyboard when she finds an interesting source. The way her nails are painted a different colour every two weeks, and how it’s never chipped or faded. The way her lipstick smudges off on the top of her mug. The way she always stirs her tea with her left hand, even though she’s right-handed. The way she leans over Erin’s shoulder to look at her work, hand resting on the back of her chair, perfume lingering.

The way her voice is slightly deeper when she first arrives at the firehouse early in the morning. The way her hands are always warm and soft when they brush against Erin’s in the kitchen, on busts and at movie night. The way her denim skirt sometimes inches up her thighs when she sits down, and Erin knows she shouldn’t look, but  _God_  she’d love to have those thighs wrapped around her head…

“Erin?”

 _Shoot_.

“Hmm?” Erin looks up to see Patty glancing at her curiously. Her laptop is now shut and pushed aside. Erin flushes, feeling like she’s been caught doing something she shouldn’t have (and knowing full well that she has).

“I said are you ready to talk?”

 

___

 

Erin clears her throat. “Yeah, I’m ready. Are you?”

Patty nods slowly. She feels it was slightly petty to make Erin wait two minutes while she clicked aimlessly around on her laptop, but the past half hour has been absolute agony for her, and she wanted Erin to experience a little of that. Plus, it had given her time to think about what she wanted to say.

“I’m ready.” She feels oddly calm, which she wasn’t expecting. “I think we both want to say the same thing.”

“I’ll start?” Erin suggests, fidgeting. “I just wanted to say sorry, first. For keeping you waiting up here. That wasn’t kind. I was just nervous. I’m sorry, Patty.”

“It’s okay. Forgiven,” she says, even though there’s not much to forgive. She knows that Erin won’t relax until she tells her this.

“Thank you. I need to tell you how I feel about you,” Erin continues and she’s not fidgeting anymore. “I really like you, Patty. As more than a friend. I’ve liked you for a while now, but I didn’t realise until a few days ago. I never imagined my feelings for you were romantic. At the gala, when you said you liked someone, I felt jealous and upset and that’s when it hit me. What I feel for you is so…  _big_  and new and – and I’ve never felt it before, and I don’t know what to do with it.

Then in the bathroom, when we were talking,” she sighs and shuts her eyes. “I’m so  _stupid_. I misunderstood what you were saying and then it was too late and…”

“You thought I was talking about someone else?” Patty asks, wanting the clarification.

Erin buries her face in her hands. “Yeah, I’m an idiot.”

“No, you’re not,” Patty says, gently pulling Erin’s hands away and holding them in her own as they rest on the desk.

“I feel like one,” Erin says, looking down at their joined hands with a hesitant smile. “I really like you, Patty. You’re so kind and beautiful and smart, and when I’m with you I feel so calm. Like I don’t need to worry because everything will be okay.  _You_  make everything okay.

When you’re not here I miss you and when you are, I want to be around you even more. You’re my favourite person and – oh, shoot! I forgot the… “ Erin stands abruptly and goes to her desk. She presents Patty with a large tin, smiling nervously. “I made you this.”

Patty takes the tin and opens it. Inside is a large cake, topped with vanilla frosting and purple icing that reads ‘Patty, I have a big, gay crush on you!’ with a heart next to it. There’s a rainbow paper flag on a cocktail stick stuck into the frosting.

Patty laughs, delighted. “You made me an ‘I have a crush on you’ cake?!”

“Well, technically it’s more than a crush,” Erin says, sitting back down.

“Oh, yeah?” Patty teases, raising an eyebrow. “What is it then?”

Erin flushes. “It’s a… it’s an ‘every time I see you, I want to burst into flames’ kind of a thing.” She focuses their attention back to the cake. “I put cinnamon in it and the icing is purple because that’s your favourite colour. And the rainbow, because, well… gay.”

“Nobody’s ever told me they like me with a cake before,” Patty says quietly, admiring the icing. “I’m glad it was you.”

Erin beams. “Oh, well… yep.”

She curses under her breath at her lack of words.

Patty grins. She pushes the cake to one side and takes Erin’s hand in hers again. “I owe you an apology, too. I should’ve told you how I feel. I really like you, too, Erin. I’ve known since the start of October, when I thought I lost all my work, remember? We watched a documentary on the couch and that’s when I realised.”

Erin looks shocked. “I had no idea. You hid that very well.”

Patty shakes her head. “I wanted to kiss you so bad.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Erin says honestly. “I would’ve freaked out.”

“After that, I was scared to tell you how I felt. You know I’m not afraid to speak my mind, but there were a lot of complications. I worried that if I told you and you rejected me, or I made you feel uncomfortable, it would screw things up. You wouldn’t want to work with me or be my friend anymore. I thought that if I ignored how I felt, my feelings would go away. But they didn’t, which I’m happy about.

I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I wasn’t trying to be secretive or mean. I’m sorry I put our working relationship above our friendship. If I’d told you sooner, then this could’ve been avoided.”

“Patty, it’s fine, really. I would’ve done the same,” Erin reassures her.

“Thank you. The past month has been really difficult. I felt guilty over my feelings for you, like I was taking advantage of your friendship. What I felt scared me because I couldn’t make it go away. Every time I saw you it reminded me how I felt, and I couldn’t stop seeing you because we’re friends and we work together.

There was that day a few weeks back when you went to an out-of-state funding pitch with Abby. I sat at my desk for ages looking at your empty one just thinking about you. What you’d say in the presentation, what you’d be wearing, how much you’d be freaking out before you presented, those silly ghost puns you put in every fourth slide, how excited you’d be when you came back, how much I’d want to kiss you.”

“I  _was_  excited when I came back,” Erin recalls.

“I know. And I wanted to kiss you, like, a  _lot_. That’s when I knew I was totally screwed – even when you weren’t here, I couldn’t stop thinking about you and it scared me. But now I’m not scared - the opposite of that. Calm, I guess. Ready.”

“Me too,” Erin smiles.

A peaceful silence falls over them and Patty feels the weight that’s been crushing her the past few months lift.

“Now what?” She laughs, almost light-headed.

“I could kiss you,” Erin suggests, then immediately panics and backtracks. “Or we can wait until we go on a date. If – if you want to go on a date. I don’t mind! Whatever… whatever floats your boat…”

“Erin.”

“Yes?”

“I would like to kiss you, too. And I want to go on many dates with you. Okay?”

“Okay,” Erin breathes and stands as Patty gets up and walks over to her.

 Patty approaches, leans in and kisses her, softly, sweetly, a hand resting on Erin’s waist, holding her close. Erin’s lips are soft and warm, and taste of fruity lip gloss. After a few seconds, Patty forces herself to pull away, sighing contentedly. She wants nothing more than to kiss Erin breathless, senseless, even, but it’s not the time for that yet. ~~~~

Erin opens her eyes, smiling faintly. “That was nice.”

“Are you blushing?” Patty teases. “Are you flustered by a kiss?”

Erin’s cheeks flush a darker shade of pink. “No! No. I just… like kisses.”

“Me too, baby.”

Erin takes her hand and holds it, stroking over Patty’s rings with her thumb. She goes up on tip-toes and kisses her again, deeper this time and pulls away with Patty’s lipstick smudged at the corner of her mouth. Patty wipes it away with her free hand.

“You’re so beautiful, do you know that?”

Erin shrugs. “You’re beautiful, Patty.”

“I guess we’re just two beautiful people about to embark on a beautiful relationship,” Patty says with a dramatic sigh, pulling her close again.

Erin giggles and swats her arm. “You’re so cheesy.”

“But you love it! Admit it, you love romance.”

“I do when it’s you.”

Patty raises an eyebrow. “ _Now_  who’s being cheesy?”

“Don’t tell Abby I said this, but you give the best hugs,” Erin says, head settled against Patty’s shoulder. “I’m so  _happy_. I don’t think anything could put me in a bad mood.”

“Best day ever!” Holtzmann bounds in, unhindered by the grabbing hands trying to pull her back that Patty assumes belong to Abby.

“You spoke too soon,” Patty sighs.

“Holtzmann!” Erin yells. “I told you not to listen in!”

“Yeah, but did you seriously think I wouldn’t?”

Patty laughs and holds Erin closer. “Did you?”

“Yes! How much did you hear?”

“Had to persuade Abby to join me so we only got here for the cake bit.”

Abby takes this as her cue to enter the room. “’Don’t tell Abby but you give the best hugs,’” she repeats incredulously, throwing her hands in the air.

Erin hides her face in Patty’s neck. “Help me.”

Patty feels the air get pushed out of her lungs as Abby joins their hug, squeezing tightly. She pulls back and kisses both of their cheeks.

“I love you both and I’m very happy for you. Erin, don’t mess this up,” she says firmly, fixing her with a stern glare. “Patty, don’t let Erin mess this up.”

Erin’s mouth drops open. “Hey!”

“You guys are gonna be the hottest, most powerful couple in America,” Holtzmann declares. “Forget Brangelina. Forget Ellen and Portia-"

Patty gasps. “Holtzy, you love Ellen and Portia!”

“I said what I said,” Holtzmann says gravely. “We need to give you a couple name.”

“I’ll do that,” Abby says, clasping her hands together. “Patrin? No… Eratty?”

Patty doubles over laughing, clinging to Erin for support. “Eratty?!” She wheezes.

“We’re not having the word ‘rat' or ‘ratty' in our couple name,” Erin says firmly.

“Your names are not compatible!” Abby complains.

“I’m sure we’ll think of something,” Patty chuckles, kissing Erin’s forehead.

Holtzmann squeals. “Adorable!”

Abby rolls her eyes. “Disgustingly so. I wanna throw up.”

“Can we eat the cake?” Patty asks, eyeing it hungrily.

“Of course. I made it for you.”

“Patty…” Holtzmann starts, with her biggest puppy-dog eyes.

“Yes, you can have some.”

“I’ll go get a knife,” Erin says, stepping away.

“No need!” Holtzmann pulls an army knife out of her trouser pocket with a flourish. “I have one right here.”

Patty sighs. How many knives did Holtzmann have on her person at any one time? “I don’t want to know what you use that for.”

“You really don’t,” Abby confirms.

Erin takes the knife and inspects it. “Is it clean?”

“Sure,” Holtzmann says. She doesn’t sound very sure.

Erin shrugs and cuts the cake with it, much to Patty and Abby’s dismay, distributing slices – the biggest going to Patty.

Holtzmann munches happily. “Tasty, right? I helped make it.”

Patty cringes, spraying crumbs as her mouth drops open. “ _What?"_

“She was supervised,” Erin reassures her.

“Good, because this is a damn good cake,” Patty says, finishing off the last piece of her slice.

“So, Patty, what you’re saying is,” Abby begins with a smirk, “you like eating Erin’s cake.”

Holtzmann snickers and gives Abby a high five.

Patty feels heat rise in her cheeks and shakes her head. “Wow.”

“I don’t get it,” Erin frowns, looking to Patty for clarification.

“Oh, Erin. Sweet, lovely Erin,” Holtzmann says, with a hand on Erin’s shoulder. “Don’t you worry. I’m sure Patty will take good care of you.”

“I certainly will,” Patty says, and she’s not talking about anything sexual anymore. She pulls Erin close, enjoying the warmth. “You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

Erin looks up at her, and her eyes are very blue and her lips are a darker pink from when Patty’s were pressed against hers. “Okay, but I still don’t get it.”

“I’ll tell you later,” Patty promises, and kisses her.

 

 

* * *

 

Patty presses the buzzer for Erin’s apartment. It’s their first date; a cold Saturday afternoon with snow promised later, so she has planned accordingly. No romantic walk in Central Park today.

The door clicks open and she makes her way up the two flights of stairs to Erin’s door. She knocks, nervousness and uncertainty taking over.

What if it goes terribly? What if something goes wrong and Erin won’t like her anymore and things will be awkward and miserable and-

“Open,” Erin calls.

Patty walks into warmth and the smell of gingerbread. Erin’s stood by the kitchen counter, fishing something out of the oven.

“Hi, baby. Is this a stress bake?”

“Yeah, I got super nervous, so I started baking to take my mind off it and now I’m running late,” Erin looks up, apologetic. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m nervous, too,” Patty admits. “If it makes you feel any better.”

“It does, actually. Thank you.”

Erin sets the baking tray on the counter, and turns to Patty, taking in her appearance. “You look – well, perfect as always. I love that jacket. You let me wear it once because I forgot mine.”

Patty looks down at her pink and purple jacket, remembering the time she’d lent it to Erin and Erin had looked at her like she’d given her the moon on a stick.

“Thank you. You look warm,” she says, observing Erin’s sweater, jacket and fluffy socks. “It’s really not that cold out. I mean, it’s cold but not  _cold_.”

“They said it’s going to snow!” Erin defends. “I hate the snow.”

“You grew up in Michigan,” Patty reminds her. “Pretty sure they have snow there, too.”

“Hence I hate the snow,” Erin says with a smile. “What’s the plan for today?” She asks, eager to hear what Patty had planned for them.

“I thought we could go to the Natural History Museum,” Patty says.

She wanted something relaxing for them both. Somewhere to walk and talk and hold hands and kiss. God, Patty wants to kiss her again. They haven’t kissed since those first few times last week when they’d confessed their feelings for each other, having wanted to keep things professional in the meantime, and Patty hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

Erin’s eyes light up. “I love the Natural History Museum! That’s actually one of the– ” she stops abruptly, cutting herself off.

“One of the what?”

“Promise not to laugh?” Erin asks, serious. Patty nods. “When I was daydreaming about going on a date with you, that’s what I thought about. Other things too; ice-skating, romantic walks, movie nights. I haven’t gotten much work done this week because that’s all I’ve been thinking about.”

“Slacking off, huh?” Patty teases. “But we can definitely do all those things. There’s usually an ice-rink in Times Square, I’m sure we can get to that.”

“That would be amazing,” Erin says dreamily. She hands Patty a warm, ghost-shaped gingerbread. “Are you a romantic person?”

“Definitely. Candle lit dinners, cute messages, cuddling, anniversaries – I love that kind of thing. I like the people I love knowing that I love them,” Patty says, briefly picturing all those scenarios with Erin in them. She takes a bit out of the gingerbread. “What about you?”

“I think so. I’ve never really had the chance because guys don’t usually like those kinds of things. Well, the guys I’ve been with don’t. I guess it depends on the person.”

“Of course. Different people like different things. After we hit up the museum, I was thinking we could head back to mine for dinner. I know you probably wanted to go to a restaurant but sometimes I think it’s more romantic at home, and you’ll get to experience my mediocre cooking.”

“That sounds perfect. Patty, this is… I’m so glad we’re doing this,” Erin says simply.

“Me too,” Patty says, feeling warm all over. “You ready to go?”

“Ready,” Erin confirms, pulling on a thick, winter coat over her jacket.

 

 

The queue for the museum is long. They buy their tickets, Erin takes her hand and holds it all the way around, not even stopping when Patty points out the best displays and exhibitions.

Patty gets the sense that Erin’s looking at her more than displays, but she’s not about to call her out on it.

 

Erin lets her guide them around the museum, kissing Patty briefly during a stop at the butterfly exhibition and then deeply as they sit at the back of the planetarium show. Patty finds it harder and harder to pull away each time.

Erin suggests they buy each other something from the gift shop as a reminder of their first date. Patty buys her a miniature snow globe with the museum inside; Erin seems to be a snow globe kind of a girl. Erin buys her an Apatosaurus ornament with a Santa hat and wreath around its neck to hang on her Christmas tree. Patty’s secretly thrilled that Erin remembered her favourite dinosaur after a long trek around the museum.

They head back to Patty’s apartment, battling blustering wind and light rain that threatens hail. Erin clings to her arm for fear of being blown away.

“You know, I’ve never been to your apartment before,” Erin says as they step into the apartment building, finally sheltered.

“It’s kinda small. Not as fancy as yours,” Patty says, almost nervous. Her apartment is smaller, but then again, she was never a tenure-track professor at an Ivy League college, even though she probably could’ve been.

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing,” Erin points out, following Patty up three flights of creaking stairs.

“I suppose not,” Patty agrees, pushing the door to her apartment open.

“It’s so warm,” Erin says happily, shedding one of her many layers.

“I set the heating to come on earlier, so it’d be nice and toasty when we came in,” Patty explains. She takes both of their damp coats and hangs them over a radiator to dry.

“Your apartment is so lovely,” Erin compliments, looking around. “And so  _you_. Only one person in the whole world could live in this apartment and that’s Patty Tolan.”

It might be a small apartment, but it’s definitely hers.

“You have so many books,” Erin comments, admiring the bookshelf Patty had treated herself to as a birthday present a few years back. “And a record player!”

“Before they came back into fashion,” Patty says proudly, following Erin to her neatly kept record collection. “You want to play one?”

Erin thumbs through the pile carefully, selecting  _Rumours_  with a laugh. “Please?”

“So predictable,” Patty teases, placing the record on the deck and adjusting the needle. The music plays and she turns to Erin. “Would you like a tour?”

“Lead the way.”

“Here we have the lounge area,” Patty says, acting out the stereotypical estate agent persona. “There’s a couch for sitting on and a TV for watching things. Behind it you’ll find the kitchen for cooking things and a beautiful rustic table with two chairs. Follow me,” she says, taking Erin’s hand in dramatic fashion, “I’ll show you the rest of the property.”

Erin follows close behind, giggling. “What has  _the property_  been valued at?”

“Currently… 70 million dollars and 54 cents.”

Erin gasps. “That’s 54 cents over my budget. I could never afford this.”

“Here we have the master suite,” Patty announces, showing her the only bedroom. “It boasts an average sized double bed, minimal storage space and nice bedside table.”

Erin glances around the room and absentmindedly opens the top drawer of the bedside table. She blushes and quickly shuts it again. “Does the vibrator come with the apartment?”

Patty cracks up, too busy laughing to be embarrassed. Absolutely not,” she says, walking over to shut the drawer. “Let’s pretend you didn’t see that.”

“Mm hm,” Erin hums, cheeks still flushed a pretty pink. She follows Patty to the next room.

“This is the bathroom, a nice shower but a little on the small side.”

“Does it fit two people?” Erin asks, nonchalant.

“Um,” Patty says, mind blank, “not sure.”

“Perhaps we could find out,” Erin says, with such a tiny smirk that Patty almost misses it. She steps into the shower, gently pulling Patty with her.

They stand facing each other, so close that if Erin tilted her head up and forward a few inches they’d be kissing. Patty’s not sure they’d be able to stop if they started.

“So… a little small. In my professional estate agent’s opinion.”

“Hmm,” Erin agrees, looking around the shower with feigned disinterest. She drags her eyes up to Patty’s and smiles sweetly, so close that they can count each other’s eyelashes. “Oh, well. My current apartment has a bathtub, anyway.”

“Oh,” Patty breathes. She goes a little weak at the knees picturing such a scene.

“Was that okay?” Erin asks with a slight frown. “Did I go too far?”

“No, that was nice,” Patty reassures her. “ _Really_  nice. Let’s just… put the brakes on.”

“Of course.”

“So,” Patty starts, hyperaware that they’re still stood in her shower, “Dinner?”

 

Dinner consists of spaghetti and meatballs and garlic bread, and Erin says she is impressed and Patty is relieved. She’s no amateur chef, but she can get the basics right.

They sit at Patty’s kitchen table and eat, talking in between mouthfuls, and find themselves on the subject of Erin’s old job at Columbia.

“If they called, would you go back?” Patty asks, interested in Erin’s answer and justification.

“No way,” Erin says firmly. “I hated it there. But it would be nice to see the look on their faces.”

“Somewhere else, then. Have you thought about teaching part-time?”

Erin frowns. “What, now?”

“Yeah, you could do like a class a week, easy. Paranormal Studies with Dr Erin Gilbert. I’d go.”

“I’m not sure the Mayor’s office would approve.”

Patty considers this. “Holtzy could get Jennifer to pull some strings. But just tell me, if you could, would you enjoy it?”

“Maybe. I don’t know. You’d be an amazing professor.”

Patty laughs. “Me?”

“Yes, you. You’re very charismatic, you tell great stories and you know your subject inside out. People would listen to you. Early History of New York with Professor Patty Tolan. I’d go.”

Patty raises an eyebrow. “Professor Tolan does sound cool. Would I have to wear a tweed suit?”

“Definitely not,” Erin says with a wry smile. “I threw mine away.”

“Really? I liked that one.”

“It was a terrible suit. I had a lot of terrible clothes, so I threw most of them out. But you always look nice, Patty. I envy you.”

“It’s just confidence,” Patty reassures her. “That and knowing your own worth.”

Erin gazes at her fondly. “You’re so smart.”

Patty pauses for a moment, touched. “Nah.”

“You are,” Erin says forcefully. “Patty, you know… everything.”

She laughs. “Not  _everything_. I didn’t know you liked me back.”

“That’s very true. I didn’t know it, either, even though I made it blindingly obvious,” Erin says with a half-sigh.

“How are you finding the whole not-straight thing?” Patty asks, because she thought Erin was doing okay but maybe she isn’t.

“Good. It wasn’t a complete surprise because I always suspected that I liked women, but nothing ever happened, so I never had to act on it. Guess I’m pretty good at ignoring my feelings.”

“Have you given yourself a label?”

“I think I’m bisexual. I’m attracted to men and women, so that seems like a good place to start. Maybe that’ll change, I don’t know. What about you?”

Patty shrugs. “I like who I like. I never ‘came out’ or anything like that. Just dated who I wanted to at the time. I don’t think there are any limits to who I could love.”

“What do your parents think?” Erin asks, hesitant, almost like she doesn’t want to know.

“They’re cool with it,” Patty says, and she’s always been so incredibly grateful for that. “As long as I’m happy, that’s all they care about. What about yours?”

Erin deflates. “I haven’t told them.”

“You don’t have to if you don’t want. You don’t owe it to anyone.”

“I don’t think they’d be very happy about it. They’re pretty closed-minded people. Imagine if I went home right now. ‘Hi mom and dad, it’s me, Erin, your ghostbusting daughter. Did you know that I’m not straight? Here’s my girlfriend, Patty.”

“That would be incredible,” Patty laughs, picturing the scene. “You don’t think they’d approve of us together?”

“Probably not,” Erin says, apologetic.

“If I ever need a blessing for your hand in marriage, I’ll be asking Abby instead.”

“If you asked her right now, she’d give it to you,” Erin says openly. “She’s half in love with you herself, I think. And who can blame her.”

“Are you flirting with me, Erin?”

“Yes.”

“Good, it’s working.”

Erin smiles and twirls pasta with her fork. “Can I ask you something? What was your first impression of me? And be honest, please.”

“A little uptight. Awkward. Quiet,” Patty says and hopes it isn’t hurtful.

Erin nods like she’d been expecting her to say that. “I get that a lot. Have you changed your mind?”

“Of course! I think you just need some time to be comfortable with new people, and once you’re comfortable, you really come to life. Is that accurate or am I overstepping?”

“No, that’s accurate. I am shy and awkward. But not around you, I hope.”

“You aren’t,” Patty assures her. “If anything, the fact that you’re shy makes me feel so lucky that I get to be your friend. I see that you find it difficult to let your guard down, so when you do that with me, I really value our connection.”

“That was a really nice thing to say,” Erin comments with a sigh, eyes shiny, then checks herself and sits up straight. “Sorry. That was lame.”

Patty chuckles and squeezes her hand across the table. “It’s been a difficult few weeks for both of us. I’m not surprised if you’re feeling down, even if we’re having a good time right now. It’s been emotional. I’ve got a tough few weeks coming, too.”

“Michael?” Erin guesses.

“On the 21st. It’ll be thirty years since he passed. I usually go to my parents for the evening. We have dinner and set a place for him. Talk to him. It helps. I may not come into work, depending on how I feel. I apologise in advance if I’m grumpy or distant. It’s not personal.”

“Of course. Take all the time you need.”

“Thanks, baby. So, your first impression of me?” Patty asks, eager to change the subject.

Erin smiles. “I was scared of you.”

“Scared?” Patty laughs. “Of what?”

“Maybe scared is the wrong word. More… intimidated. When we first met you were loud and confident and exciting and smart, and you wanted to be part of what we were doing. Within an hour of meeting me, you saved my life. I wasn’t sure how to act around you at that point, I didn’t know how to repay you. One minute you were sitting outside in the ‘waiting room’ and the next you were on the team. I was alarmed by how right it felt that you were with us, when I’d only known you a few hours. Like it was destiny, or something.”

“Do you believe in destiny?”

“I do now.”

Patty is quiet, touched by Erin’s speech, unsure of how to reply without making a fool of herself.

“Please allow the Madam Patty to read your palm, believer.”

Never mind.

Erin laughs. “You do not know how to read palms.”

“I’ll have you know that I once took a class in it.” She takes Erin’s hand in hers, tracing lines with her fingers. “Ah! This line here is very interesting; this line tells me that there’s a new love interest in your life.”

“Does it really?” Erin asks wryly.

“Ah ha! And this line, this is a very rare line, not many people have this one. Only people with a PhD in particle physics from MIT have this one. This line tells me that you’re a very beautiful woman. And this line here tells me that your new love interest is going to kiss you in the next five seconds.”

Erin smiles shyly. “She is?”

“If you’d like that.”

“I would.”

Patty leans across the table and kisses her tenderly, a gentle press of their lips. “Crazy how I got that right.”

Erin grins, shaking her head. “Call me controversial, but I don’t think you’ve ever taken a class in palm reading, Patty. I think you made all that up just so you could hold my hand and kiss me.”

“Madam Patty will neither confirm or deny those claims,” Patty says with a guilty smile. “But your interpretation of events is a possibility.” She points to their empty plates. “Finished?”

They wash the dishes and put them away in comfortable silence. Erin yawns and Patty checks her watch; 22:17.

“Do you want to stay over?” She asks, drying off the last plate.

Erin’s eyes widen. “You mean have sex?”

Patty almost chokes on air. “No! No, sorry, I worded that badly. I mean do you want to sleep here – just sleeping – because it’s late and raining and freezing outside. I don’t want to send you out in that if I don’t have to.”

“Then yes, I’d love to stay.”

“Happy to share a bed?”

Erin looks at her strangely. “We’ve shared a bed before.”

“I know. Just… didn’t want to assume. I’ll go grab some pyjamas for you to change into.” She goes to her bedroom, Erin following, and rummages in her chest of drawers for the smallest things she can find. “These are the best I can do. Might be a bit loose,” Patty says, handing Erin the grey t-shirt and light blue pyjama trousers. “I’ll, um, give you some privacy. I’ll go brush my teeth.”

“Thanks, Patty.”

Patty clicks the bathroom door shut and takes a calming breath. Her heart races - illogically, she tells herself. They’ve shared a bed before, but things feel different now. Everything feels new.

She brushes her teeth and washes her face, removing her make-up. She finds a new toothbrush for Erin to use and leaves it out for her. She knocks on the door before entering the bedroom.

“All done,” Erin calls.

Patty enters the bedroom, enjoying the sight of Erin in her clothes. “I left a new toothbrush out for you. The green one. Pyjamas okay?”

“Perfect, thank you.” Erin points to the bathroom. “I’ll go brush my teeth.”

“Sure,” Patty smiles, holding the door open for her. She changes into pyjamas herself and sits on her bed, waiting.

Erin emerges a few minutes later, smelling of hand soap and mint toothpaste. She spots Patty sitting at the end of the bed, frowns slightly and joins her. “Something wrong?”

Patty looks at her hands. “I feel like I made things awkward just then. When I asked about the sharing a bed thing.”

“You didn’t,” Erin says, reaching across to take Patty’s hand in hers, threading their fingers together. “You were just being considerate, and I’m not used to that. It wasn’t awkward.”

“Promise?”

“Promise,” Erin says quietly, pulling her in for a soft kiss. “Will you be my big spoon?”

Patty chuckles, resting their foreheads together. “It would be my honour.”

Erin smiles, almost shy, and moves away, slipping under the duvet. Patty does the same, relaxed by the softness of the sheets. They settle against the pillows, faces inches apart, and Patty resists the urge to kiss her again, not wanting to get carried away.

“What are you thinking about?” Erin whispers, so quiet that Patty almost doesn’t hear.

“Kissing you,” Patty whispers back, not wanting to lie to her. “I think about it a lot.”

Erin inches closer and kisses her deeply, a hand on her cheek. Patty kisses her again in reply, stroking fingers through her hair. Erin smiles against her lips and Patty’s stomach does a small flip.

“I think about it, too,” Erin sighs contentedly. “That feels so nice.”

“This?” Patty asks, still running her fingers through Erin’s hair.

“Mm,” Erin hums, eyes closing.

Patty briefly wonders what sounds Erin might make if she touched other parts of her body.

“Erin?”

She opens her eyes. “Yeah?”

“I love you,” Patty says and hopes she understands.

She loves Erin, of course she does. She’s loved her since they became friends and she loves her now, but she’s not  _in_  love, not yet.

“I love you, too,” Erin whispers.

She cuddles closer, tucking her head into Patty’s shoulder, an arm wrapped around her waist. Patty kisses the top of her head and holds her close, never intending to let her go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> epilogue is mostly written and should be up within a week
> 
> please let me know your thoughts in the comments :) see you soon


	8. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The aim of this fic was to write a proper 'Patty and Erin fall in love' story, but also to give Patty some backstory and perspective.  
> I wanted to give Patty some closure and growth throughout the fic and I hope this epilogue solidifies that.

**EPILOGUE**  

 

Erin pulls up along Patty’s childhood street in the Ecto, with Patty in the passenger seat. 

“Just here, baby,” Patty says, pointing out into the darkness to a house on the left. 

Erin parks against the kerb, checking every mirror and blind spot like she’s taking her driving test. Despite the situation, Patty smiles at her cautious behaviour, feeling a rush of affection. They’ve only been dating a few weeks and Patty’s desperately trying not to get carried away, but she can’t help how she feels. 

They sit in silence for a few seconds, breath forming tiny puffs in the cold evening air.  

“How you feeling?” Erin asks, fingers tapping against the steering wheel. 

It’s the anniversary of Michael’s death, Patty’s least favourite day of the entire year. Erin had offered to drive her to her parents’ home for their family dinner this evening, and Patty had taken her up on it, glad of the company on the short journey from the firehouse. 

“I’m okay,” Patty says, unsure of who she’s trying to convince.  

Erin turns to her. “Really?” 

“Nah, not really. Can’t do much about it, though.” 

She looks out across the street her and Michael used to play in, back when streets were safe and older brothers didn’t kill themselves. She sees the tree Michael pushed her at once, for a joke, then spent the rest of the afternoon making it up to her by driving her to the New York Public Library. The part of the road where she fell off the skateboard he gave her. The bench they used to sit on after buying from the ice-cream van that visited the street every day in the summer.  

Ten metres up from where they are currently is the last place she ever saw him. Car packed with boxes ready for his second year of college, a smile on his face, waving goodbye as he pulled away from her and their parents waving back, all of them unknowing, unsuspecting.  

Patty never used to mind saying goodbye to people. Saying goodbye only meant saying hello again, one day. Until saying goodbye to Michael. 

“I hope it goes well tonight.” 

“Thank you. Thanks for driving me. I’ll see you in a couple hours, okay?” 

“I can wait,” Erin shrugs.  

Patty shakes her head, indignant. “No way. This is a safe neighbourhood, but you shouldn’t just sit in your car alone at night. Promise me you won’t wait?” 

“Yeah, I promise,” Erin says. Patty narrows her eyes. “I promise!” 

Patty leans across the car and kisses her goodbye. “Drive safe.” 

She steps out of the car, waves a final goodbye, and heads towards her parents’ home. Upon her approach, she knocks tentatively at the door. She’s the only guest they’re expecting tonight. 

The door opens and Patty’s mom, Betty, stands on the other side, as always. Betty smiles at the sight of her, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Hi, Pats.” 

Patty steps inside and hugs her tightly, careful not to crush her glasses. Every time she sees her parents, they look a little frailer, slower. It almost paralyses her with fear to think that she’ll probably lose them both over the next ten years, if not five. First Michael, then William and Betty, then her. Just Patty. Sometimes she lies awake at night and wonders how lonely she’ll feel when the time finally comes. 

“Your Dad is upstairs,” Betty says when they pull apart. “Why don’t you come give me a hand with the food?” 

They cook the same thing every year, a chicken jambalaya, Michael’s favourite. Some years Patty feels a little silly, cooking a meal specifically for someone who’s not there to eat it, but she’s unsure what they’d cook in its absence, and whether she’d be able to keep it down.  

She hangs up her coat and follows her mom to the kitchen. Unlike every other day of the year, the radio isn’t playing. Patty takes a red bell pepper and starts slicing while her mom cooks the meat.  

“How’ve you been, Patty? We’ve hardly heard from you, lately. I see all these news reports about ghosts everywhere and I worry about you. If anything bad happened to you I don’t think I could bear it.” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” Patty sighs. She knows how much her mom worries about her. She’s always been protective, but ever since Michael died, Patty’s felt the full force of it. “I’ll call more, I promise. Things have been pretty crazy, lately.” 

“Bad crazy? Or good?” 

“Good,” Patty says, smiling faintly as she thinks of dark hair, soft lips and a hand in hers. 

“Oh, I see,” Betty says with a knowing glance. “I know that smile, Patricia.” 

Patty rolls her eyes at the use of her full name. “And what smile is that?” 

“That’s the ‘I’m in love’ smile.” 

“I’m not _in_ love,” Patty says. “Not yet. But I do love someone, and we’re dating. Just started dating, really.” 

“And you already love them?” Betty sounds surprised. 

“We were friends, before,” Patty explains. “I’ve liked them for a few months.” 

“So, are they a he or a she or a… a gender... fluent?” 

Patty stifles a laugh. “Gender _fluid_.” 

“Oh, you know what I mean. Patty, you know I love you, don’t you? With your boys and your girls and your gender fluids. I never minded.” 

“Yeah, I know,” Patty says, quiet.  

“So, you gonna tell me about them or not?” 

“She’s incredible. So smart, like an actual genius. And she’s funny and sweet, and so, so _awkward_ ,” Patty says with a laugh. “And she’s so pretty; she has a lovely smile. And her eyes are deep blue, like the sea.” 

“Just started dating, you say,” Betty says with a raised eyebrow. 

“What do you mean?” Patty frowns, almost defensive.  

“Patty, you told me yourself that you fall in love too easily. I don’t want this to be one of those times.” 

“Yeah, I know. But I’ve thought this through a lot. I’ve talked it over with friends. We feel the same way about each other and have done for months. I’m feeling good about it.” 

“Then I’m happy for you, Patty,” her mom says, sincere. “I just hate to see you get hurt.” 

 

The pot simmers and they both sit at the kitchen table, sifting through old photographs. Patty’s Dad is still upstairs, which isn’t unusual.  

“This one has always been my favourite,” Betty says, pushing a photograph towards her. 

Patty takes it carefully. “From his high school graduation?” 

“It was such a lovely day; do you remember it? The sun was shining, the sky was blue, and I think the school fields must have been mown that morning because all I could smell was fresh cut grass. Everyone was laughing and talking and clapping each other on the back. Mikey kept showing everybody and anybody his acceptance letter from Chicago. He was so happy, don’t you think? I never saw him smile so much, his cheeks must have hurt by the end of that day. Your Dad gave Mikey his first beer and he pretended to like it.” 

“He poured half of it in your plant pot,” Patty recalls, smiling. Her mom hasn’t spoken about Michael for such an extended period in years, so she goes quiet again. 

“And I wondered why my plant had died,” Betty sighs and looks wistful. “When we first lost him, I spent hours reliving that day. I used to lose myself in it, to try to forget. I’ve been on this Earth nearly eighty years and I only had Michael with me for a quarter of that, but that day… when I got that call from Chicago, it felt like the world had ended. I wanted the world to end.  

Patty, if I’d not had you to focus on, to keep me going, then I don’t know what would’ve happened to us. You were so _strong_. Stronger than me and your Dad put together, and you were only seventeen. To have such strength and determination at that age… you’re special, Patty. I hope you know that.” 

“I didn’t feel very strong,” Patty mutters. 

“I know that. But you pulled yourself through it and look at you now. You’re a ghostbuster. You’re doing something nobody else in the whole world is doing and I’m so proud of you. Mikey would be proud of you, too. You know how much he would love to be firing those proton guns, or whatever you call them. He’d be trying to get on the team and that’s a fact.” 

Patty smiles, picturing the scene. “Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome. Now, go get your Dad because dinner’s ready.” 

 

Patty trudges up the stairs and hovers beside the closed door of her parent’s bedroom. It’s quiet on the other side. Every year she expects to hear muffled cries and sobs, but every year it’s silence.  

Every year her Dad sits in silence before their dinner and the first few times Patty hated him for it, for being so selfish and distant, but she since realised that they simply differ in their grief. Patty and her Mom will externalise their feelings, and her Dad will internalise, a supernova of sadness versus a black hole. 

She knocks on the door. “Dad, it’s me. Dinner’s ready. I’ll see you down there.” 

He won’t come downstairs until Patty goes. So, she heads back down and starts dishing up with her Mom.  

They set the table the same every year, with everyone in their designated place. Her Dad at the head of the table, Michael to his left-hand side, her Mom next to him, and Patty opposite Michael, with a space to her right, that was often taken up by a book when she was younger. 

Michael was the centre-piece of their meal times, the story-teller who could put anybody in a good mood no matter how crappy their day had been.  The right joke for the right occasion. Stories that Patty secretly listened to as she pretended to read her book, only to laugh in all the right places and get found out.  

“Hi, Pats.” 

“Hi, Dad,” Patty says, looking up from the plates to see him standing in the kitchen doorway.  

He looks the same as ever; shirt tucked into grey trousers, brown slippers on his feet. He bears no visible sign of sadness or grief, just a little downcast. He hides it so well that Patty almost feels jealous. 

“Thanks for coming to get me.” 

“Of course.” 

“Need any help?” 

“Mom’s just laying the table. I’ve dished up our portions, why don’t you do yours and Michael’s?” She offers him the spoon, an olive branch, and he takes it. 

“Better give Mikey the bigger portion, huh? That boy could eat for America,” he says lightly, and it doesn’t go unappreciated.  

 

They sit at the table in their designated places, food in front of them. Betty lights the candle, as she does every year, and they let it burn for an hour. An hour to eat and say what they want to say. Patty likes it that way; their time is defined and contained and that they can move on from it, leave it behind. 

“Bill, why don’t you start?” Betty says, out of habit, because he always starts, then her and then Patty. 

Bill clears his throat and sits up straighter. “Michael, I miss you. I think of you every day and I love you. I hope that wherever you are, you’ve found peace.”  

Betty nods, knowing that her husband likes to keep his speeches short. “I miss you too, Michael. I’m sorry you felt like you had to leave us and that I couldn’t do more to help. I wish we could’ve had longer together, but I am grateful for the years that we had and will cherish them always.” She wipes a stray tear with her handkerchief. “Your turn, Patty.” 

Patty takes a deep breath, steeling herself. This never gets any easier for her, but she’s well practised at it now. 

“Hi, Mikey. Patty here. I still miss you. I know I say that every year, but it’s true. I wish you were here with us and I’m sorry you aren’t. I’m sorry I couldn’t help you. I feel like I let you down. 

Everything’s going pretty well, right now. Got a new job and it’s a good job, too, none of that MTA crap. I’m seeing someone new. It’s early but I’ve got a really good feeling about her. I think you would like her. I wish you were here so that I could show you all the cool things I’m doing now, and I could share it with you. I hope that you’d be proud of me. 

I like to think that you’re listening in, wherever you are, and you know how much we love you. I’ll be here again, same time next year, to talk to you. I love you, Michael.” 

She exhales, picks up her fork and they start eating.  

Patty feels a wave of calm and warmth pass over her, like an embrace. She feels it every year and today is no exception. It’s slow and relaxing, starts at the top of her head and ends at her feet, then settles in the air around her like a fine cloud. She finds comfort in it as she eats, a small window of time when the grief just seems to melt away. 

They eat in silence, mostly, unless they think of anything else they want to say, and sit quietly after, sharing memories. Whatever they say to Michael during dinner is never spoken of outside of it.  

Their one hour is up. Betty blows out the candle. Patty feels a sense of relief that it’s over. Bill stands abruptly, his limited role in the evening over.  

“I’ll be heading back upstairs now. It was lovely to see you, Patty. Make sure you come and visit again soon,” he says, briefly resting his hand on hers. He nods to Betty, tucks in his chair and leaves. 

“Give me a hand with the plates, Patty?” 

Patty stands, plates in hands and follows her Mom to the kitchen. Betty scrapes the leftover meal quickly into the bin, barely looking at it. She begins washing the dishes and Patty dries them. 

Patty feels her phone vibrate in her back pocket and takes it out to read the text. 

 _Outside when you’re ready. Very conscious of the fact that I’m in a hearse right now, so I parked further down the street. Hope you’re okay. No rush._  

Patty smiles and pockets her phone. 

“Was that your new lady?” 

“Uh huh. She said she’s here to pick me up when I’m ready to go.” 

Betty’s eyes light up. “She’s here? Can I meet her?” 

“Soon,” Patty promises. “Do you ever feel it, Mom? When we’re in there, with Michael. Do you feel it? All calm and peaceful.” 

“I feel it,” Betty says quietly. “I feel it every year.” 

They wash and dry in comfortable silence until they’re finished.  

Patty hugs her mom tightly and kisses her cheek.  

“I’ll be heading off, now. I love you. Call me if you need anything. I’ll visit again soon, I promise.” 

“I love you, too, baby. Call me when you get back.” 

“I will,” Patty says, hugs her again and then grabs her coat and shoes. “Bye, Mom.” 

 

She steps out into the cold night air and shuts the door behind her. The calm that once encompassed her fades as she steps further from the house and is almost gone when she reaches the street.  

She spots the Ecto and heads towards it, Erin emerging from the driver’s side of the vehicle. Upon her approach, she wraps Patty in a warm hug, squeezing tightly. 

“You okay?” 

“I’m okay. But let’s get in the car because it’s freezing.” 

“The Ecto is nice and warm,” Erin says, a little guiltily. “I left the engine running because I was cold and don’t care about the environment.” 

Patty smiles. “I always knew you were a climate change denier.” 

They sit quietly in the car, warmed by its super-charged heater fans (a Holtzmann-installed modification).  

Erin glances at Patty when she thinks she’s not looking. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

Patty nods slowly, still processing. “We said what we wanted to say. We ate together. I had a nice talk with my Mom. It went pretty well. I didn’t even cry this time.” 

Erin looks at her, almost suspicious. “You’re sure?” 

“I feel okay, promise. I just want to go home, if that’s okay,” Patty says, emotionally exhausted. “Would you mind staying tonight? It’s just… I don’t want to be alone.” 

Erin nods, smiling faintly. “Of course. Whatever you need.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Patty? I sort of need to tell you something.” 

“Oh?” 

Erin shifts uncomfortably in the seat. “I wasn’t sure whether to tell you because I thought it would be really upsetting but you seem pretty stable right now and I think maybe I should because if I don’t then it would be bad, probably.” 

“You really know how to put a girl at ease,” Patty says. 

“I know, sorry. It’s just that for the past half hour or so I’ve been getting a reading from the Ecto’s external sensor. It’s at a low level,” Erin says, handing Patty a small computer tablet that displays something like a polygraph, but detects paranormal activity instead of lies, with a steady reading just above the zero baseline, “But it’s there.” 

Patty takes the tablet, ignoring the way her hands shake, and stares at the reading, the physical evidence. “And you think…” 

“I think so. If you watch the reading,” Erin says. 

She edges the Ecto up the street, closer and closer to Patty’s home, until they’re right beside it. The reading increases steadily on their approach and peaks as they sit outside Patty’s old home. Patty stares at the screen, almost disbelieving. 

Erin rests a hand on her arm. “Patty?” 

“Yeah, I’m here.” 

“Did you see or feel anything while you were in there?” 

“I did,” Patty whispers. “We feel it every year. It’s him, isn’t it? It’s Michael. I know that now.” 

“Do you want to go back inside? I’ll wait.” 

Patty looks back to the house, to the front door and the pale orange glow at the windows and remembers the calm she felt on the other side of them. If she goes back now, she might never leave.  

“No,” she says firmly. “He’ll be there next year, I know it.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’m sure. Thank you for showing me that.”  

She hands Erin the tablet back and wipes her eyes; she hadn’t even realised she’d been crying. The grief that’s crushed her for almost three decades lifts from her shoulders, not entirely, that will never be possible, but the load is lighter, manageable.  

Michael was never really gone, she just didn’t know where to look. She’s found him again, now. 

“Ready to go home?” Erin asks and when Patty looks at her, she realises that she’s never loved her more than she does right now. 

“I’m ready.” 

 

* * *

 

 

 **JANUARY**  

 

“Okay, team, listen up!” Patty calls as they finish unloading the equipment from the Ecto.  

Holtzmann bounds over, unhealthily excited by any chance to fire weapons, quickly followed by Erin and Abby.  

It’s a freezing, bleak January day, with mutterings and groanings in the car ride over about the weather, but Patty is excited. 

It’s the first time their newly-trialled sensor system has picked up paranormal activity in one of Patty’s designated hot spots; a now derelict apartment block twenty miles from the city centre that was the site of an infamous murder-suicide eleven years ago.  

“What’ve you got for us, Patty?” Abby asks, rubbing her hands together from the cold. 

Patty shuffles through documents on her computer tablet to reach the correct building. “A murder-suicide in apartment 6F. Married couple, Derek and Melanie Baker, lived there for two years before the incident. Neighbours always complaining of them fighting, yelling. Late January 2006, police report says they got in a fight, he beats her to death with a baseball bat, then shoots himself.  

I’ve got reports from neighbours who said they heard the screams from that night for weeks after the incident. Like the sound was stuck on a loop, same time every night. People get spooked and move out, nobody wants to live there anymore, understandably. The landlord goes bankrupt and hangs himself in the building entrance six months later.” 

“How awful,” Erin comments, looking cautiously toward the building. 

Patty loads a new document and turns the tablet around for them to see. “This is the building plan. Eight floors; murder-suicide on the sixth, suicide on the ground floor. Emergency exits here and here on each floor, but there’s no information on what shape they’re in, so be careful.” 

“What kind of en-tities we dealing with, Pats?” Holtzmann asks, with strong emphasis on the ‘tities’. 

“Nobody’s been in 6F since the murder investigation ended, likewise with the landlord’s suicide so no physical sightings. But from the neighbours’ reports and strength of the signal the sensor picked up, I’m thinking the entities will be pretty powerful,” Patty explains, buzzed. 

It feels so good to know things. To know that her research is helpful. Until now, she’s felt impractical, a secondary player on their team. They’d never made her feel like that, of course, but the self-doubt was always there. A need to prove herself to herself.  

“So, what’s the plan?” Abby asks, and they all look to Patty, waiting. 

A surge of pride blooms in her chest. “I vote we pair off, start at opposite ends of each floor then meet in the middle. Repeat up to the sixth floor, check out 6F, bust any ghosts, check out the remaining floors and then head back down.” 

“So many stairs,” Holtzmann groans. “Elevator?” 

“You are _not_ taking the elevator,” Patty says sternly, a finger pointed in Holtzmann’s direction. “I’m pairing you up with Abby because she won’t let you get in one.” 

“I definitely will not,” Abby confirms. 

“Aww,” Holtzmann pouts. “You’re no fun. Can’t I go with Erin, instead?” 

“No, you cannot,” Patty says. “Erin’s with me.” 

Abby snickers. “Don’t get distracted. Come on Holtzy, let’s go. We’ll take the back entrance.” 

“Be careful,” Patty calls, putting her tablet back in the car. She turns to Erin, pulling on her proton pack. “Guess we’re taking the front entrance.” 

Erin takes a step and kisses her fully, without warning. She pulls back and Patty looks at her, dazed, lips tingling. She’ll never get used to kissing Erin, not when her lips are so soft and her cheeks blush pink and her hands reach for Patty’s. 

“What?” Erin shrugs, playful. “I like it when you’re assertive.” 

A wolf whistle breaks their moment. 

“Ladies,” Holtzmann coos from thirty yards away, gleeful, “let’s keep it professional.” 

Patty arches an eyebrow at Erin. “Like she even knows what that word means.” 

Erin laughs and kisses her again. “Let’s go bust some ghosts.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone who has made it to the end. Writing this fic has been difficult at times, but every comment you guys have left made it so much easier. I truly hope you've enjoyed reading this fic. I've loved writing these ladies together, maybe I will write them again soon if there's interest.
> 
> If you have any comments about this chapter or the fic overall please leave them below, I'd loved to hear any thoughts you have.


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